


with urgency, but not with haste

by feathertofly



Series: patient love [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Dancer Louis, F/M, M/M, Red String of Fate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 11:56:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 60,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feathertofly/pseuds/feathertofly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>the red string of fate is an east asian belief originating from chinese legend. According to this myth, the gods tie a red cord around the ankles of those that are to meet one another in a certain situation or help each other in a certain way.</i> </p><p> </p><p>“joke all you want, louis, but eventually you’re going to realize that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side.”</p><p>“it isn’t about grass, aiden. it’s about... it’s about quantum entanglement.” aiden raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t interrupt. “there’s this thing in physics, right? where two substances can get linked together to the point where it’s impossible for them to break apart. and it’s awesome, right, it’s how hydrogen and oxygen combine to make water. it’s a fact of life. but the thing is, once those two substances have become, you know. entangled. it’s impossible to break them apart. i mean, i guess if you have an atom splitter or something, but the point is -”</p><p>“the point is, aiden breaks in, “that we need to get you some chamomile tea or something, because those late night documentary marathons are probably melting your brain.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part i.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the part where i tell you that writing this story saved my life is a very literal sense, and i could ramble on about that but i'll save it for later. for now i'll just say that this never would've happened without two of the best people i know, littlelostpieces and seaholly. they're the best friends a girl could ask for, and never once complained at me whining about louis talking back to me or feeling disconnected from the story. this is their story as much as it is mine.
> 
> this is a work of fiction, and life imitates art as much as art imitates life, so this is in no way supposed to reflect actual events or my opinions on the actual people involved. nothing is mine except for the original characters. soz harry, louis, and company. title is from not with haste by mumford & sons.

_someday, we’ll run into each other again, i know it. maybe i’ll be older and smarter and just plain better. if that happens, that’s when i’ll deserve you. but now, at this moment, you can’t hook your boat to mine, because i’m liable to sink us both.” — gabrielle zevin, memoirs of a teenage amnesiac_

 

i.

  


the sun is setting outside by the time louis makes it into the studio. the windows are positioned just perfectly across from the ceiling to floor mirrors so that when he faces them he's surrounded by brilliant orange and golden light. the glare makes watching himself hard sometimes, that's probably why no one ever wants this time slot - dancers are nothing if not a bit vain - but for him, it's perfect.

  


a rhythmic drum driven instrumental track drifts through the speakers, timed perfectly with his yoga warm up. it seems like his muscles are perpetually sore these days, split between being tense from long hours cramped up in library chairs and longer hours being twisted and turned and stretched on the dance floor. by the time louis rolls up to standing the music has melted seamlessly into awolnation’s sail. he positions himself in an arabesque and lets his mind fall blissfully blank of everything other than his movements. _six, seven, eight, arms up, drop down, extend the leg, shift weight, four, five, six..._

  


it's rough the first time through the routine, his lines not as clean as he'd like them to be, but by the end of the hour he thinks he's made real progress. he hits a button on a tiny remote and the song restarts one more time. his blood is fully pumping now, and the run through is perfect. he hits the timing exactly, his energy is spot on, everything feels fluid, and when he hits the final pose he hears a smattering of applause and cheers coming from the corner, jolting him out of his trance.

  


"aw, lou, that was lovely!"

  


leigh-anne runs across the floor and louis barely has time to ground himself before she's jumping into his arms, laughing and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

  


"no fair, don't keep him all to yourself, you ninny!" and before he knows it louis is being swarmed by the hip hop dance group collectively known as little mix. jesy's arms wrap tight around him from behind while jade flutters from side to side, trying to get to louis around leigh-anne. perrie doesn't even try to be subtle, hugging leigh-anne from behind and getting in a quick grope.

  


"ugh, lady parts, lady parts everywhere!" louis moans dramatically while the girls just giggle at him. he's known little mix since their first term together, his second year in the program. he'd been one of the most vocal supporters of their formation outside of the university's official dance troupe. they'd all made fast friends, bonding over late nights in the studio and swapped cds filled with remix after remix. louis wouldn't hesitate to call them his closest friends in the dance department, easy.

  


"stay and watch us, pretty please?" jade is the one that says it, but before long four sets of bright eyes are set on him pleadingly. louis rolls his eyes but moves to sit against the wall as jesy claps and perrie moves to plug her own iPod into the speaker system. the girls go through a quick warm up of their own, higher energy than louis's had been. it all looks a bit nonsensical to at first, the repeated jumps and steps and arm swoops, but as soon as the music starts and rihanna's voice pours through the speakers, the odd movements flow together perfectly.

  


louis's face feels like it's going to split with grinning by the end. the girls hit a strong final pose right as the music fades and he bursts into applause. all five of them jump at a piercing whistle from the doorway, but louis relaxes quickly because -

  


"harry!"

  


if louis had thought the girls were excited to see him, it was no match to their reaction to his best friend.

  


"if i didn't know any better i'd say he was your favorite instead of me," louis says dryly as he lifts himself to his feet and makes his way across the floor to where the girls are crowding around harry. they make cooing noises in his direction, but don't move away at all.

  


"if it makes you feel any better, you're my favorite?"

  


harry's grinning at him helplessly over the girls' heads, but makes no move to untangle himself. a human koala, that one, only happy when he's being petted and cuddled.

  


"come over here, louis," perrie says, reaching a hand out to him, "we can have two favorites, you know!"

  


they're all hot and sweaty, but louis doesn't think twice before nuzzling his way in between jade and harry, reaching up to press his nose into harry's neck. he stays in the group hug for a second before sneaking his hand up and twisting harry's nipple sharply. he howls more in shock than pain, and it makes everyone else laugh.

  


"on that note, this one just declared that i'm his favorite, and in the best friend rules, that translates to him buying me dinner. we'll see you ladies later." he tips an imaginary hat towards them as they get back into their places. it takes seconds for them to get focused again, music filling the room and looks of intense concentration on their faces as they run through the routine again.

  


"they're something else, aren't they?" harry asks reverently. louis smiles up at him, a little fond. years as roommates and harry still has two left feet, no rhythm at all, but he has developed an appreciation for bodies in motion, more than louis would've thought.

  


"feed me, hazza," is all he says, slipping an arm around harry's waist. "food, then studying, then football on the telly, then passing out on the couch."

  


"no aiden tonight?" his voice is light as he winds his arm around louis, lifting his bag off and slinging it his own shoulder. louis would protest, but. he really doesn't want to.

  


"nah, he's working late tonight, plus i'm opening the shop tomorrow morning. just you and me, mate."

  


harry's smile might get the tiniest bit brighter at that, but if louis notices he certainly doesn't mention it.

  


ii.

  


louis isn’t quite all the way to tipsy, but he doesn't need that. he's drunk enough off the feeling of aiden's lips against his. the brush of aiden's fingertips across his cheek, down his neck. it's the kind of feeling louis relishes, comfortable and warm and wanted. it's so easy to get caught up in it as aiden presses him against the wall just so, hips aligned in a way that can only come from months of practice.

  


"as much fun as this is, babe, the things i want to do to you would require an actual bed. yours or mine, you have a preference?"

  


aiden's pulled away and is looking down at louis with a fond little smile and just, yes. louis loves it. he can't stop himself from darting forward to press a quick kiss against it. aiden laughs as he pushes him away gently.

  


"none of that, i'm trying to seduce you. focus, if you please."

  


louis blinks and frowns a bit. focusing means not kissing aiden, and louis can't think of a single thing he'd rather be doing than kissing aiden. only good things come from kissing aiden. except... right.

  


"yours, probably. i doubt harry would be too happy about being interrupted while he studies."

  


something tightens at the corner of aiden's lips and eyes, and louis buries his face in aiden's neck so he can pretend he didn't see it. the only bad thing that comes from kissing aiden is, occasionally, that it leads to fighting with aiden about harry. and the kissing was so nice, louis wants to just go back to that. it's tense like that for a beat, and then aiden is all smiles again.

  


"just as well, i live closer." he pulls louis back just enough to kiss him deeply before twining their fingers together and starting towards the door. "all the sooner to eat you, my dear."

  


louis giggles for a second before yelling at the top of his lungs, "AIDEN GRIMSHAW, IF THAT WAS A GRANDMA JOKE ABOUT MY AGE YOU CAN VERY WELL SEE YOURSELF HOME. I DON'T CARE HOW FIT YOU LOOK IN THOSE JEANS."

  


aiden just laughs and tugs at his hand harder. "does that make me the wolf, then?"

  


louis has a clever response, he really does, but it gets lost in the buzz of the streetlights and the pounding music pouring out of the clubs as they run down the streets of london.

  
  


when louis gets home the next day, harry's passed out on the couch, wrapped up in in his duvet with the television still on. there are two empty mugs that probably once held tea on the table next to a massive textbook and harry's wheezing gently. louis frowns a bit at that. he can hear the remnants of the cold harry's been fighting for weeks now. it sounds like it’s on its way out, though, so he'll just have to be sure that harry remembers to bundle up extra tight. the heating only works in their flat half the time, and no matter how often they talk to the landlord about it, nothing ever seems to get better. louis makes a mental note to pick up some thick socks for harry next time he goes to the shops. he doesn't wear them himself, but if they'll keep harry warm, it's more than worth it.

  


he's tempted to wake harry up like he usually does, blaring taylor swift or something right next to his ear to drive him mad. but harry looks so peaceful, louis can't do it. instead he presses a light kiss to the side of harry's head and moves past him into the kitchen. harry works himself too hard, he needs all the sleep he can get at this point. louis wouldn't have thought that the university's nursing program would be nearly as taxing as it is, but harry had thrown in pre-med at the last second - "just in case, you never know" - so now he's scrambling for more credits than he should be and it's just... louis worries. that's all. the bags under harry's eyes haven't disappeared for weeks now and he's pretty sure harry hasn't see the light of day since last tuesday, between classes and any shifts he can pick up at the cafe where they both work, and then long hours spent in the campus library. louis can entertain himself for a while, just while harry gets some rest.

  


when harry does wake up about an hour later, louis has the kettle on and is curled up on the other end of the couch. louis hears him wake up before he sees it, corner of his lips twitching at the sounds. harry wakes up slowly, first a change in his breathing, then little snuffles and moans, and finally his neck and back popping as he twists his head and raises up on his arms. it's the same pattern of sounds he's made since they met, and there's something comforting about that.

  


"morning, princess, nice of you to grace us with your presence."

  


harry groans at that, pulling the blanket over his head. "if i were a princess then i wouldn't be slaving my life away trying to make myself employable, would i?" he reaches out for louis with his fingers spread wide, grabbing for him like a child. louis goes willingly, fitting his back to harry's front and snuggling into the sleepy warmth of harry's arms.

  


"if you were a princess, you could pay for the surgery i'll need to have my toes amputated from frostbite."

  


"if i were a princess you wouldn't have frostbite; we'd be able to afford a flat with heating."

  


"if you were a princess, we could be living somewhere where we wouldn't need heating."

 

“no take backs?” harry says. louis rolls his eyes. leave it to harry to kick it up from passively ridiculous to utterly childish in a heartbeat.

  


“pinkie swear.”

 

harry laughs and his arms wind tighter around louis. he knows, mentally, he should be uncomfortable - two blankets covering him and a human furnace suffocating him. he can't even fall asleep properly when aiden tries to spoon him in bed.

  


but it's harry. it's habit, probably, they've been sharing a bed since the first night they were thrown together as roommates in their first year. surely it must’ve been strange for them those first few weeks, fitting two full grown boys in a twin bed - until they finally wised up and pushed their two beds together in the middle of the room. It must’ve been, but after years of practice it certainly isn’t strange now.

  


it must be nearly noon, and louis knows harry had more homework, to speak nothing of his own. they have things to do. but harry's head is burrowed in the back of his neck, humming a low, slow tune that louis vaguely recognizes as a song harry always sings to him when he complains about the cold. he lets himself fall asleep, just for a minute, to the sound of harry's voice and the image of a sun bleached seaside town.

  
  


iii.

  
  


tuesdays are the worst; louis is sure that there have been scientific studies done to support that thesis. everyone always complains about mondays but they’re so wrong; tuesday is the real culprit. mondays aren’t so bad because you’ve still got that energy from the weekend, and then tuesday comes in and blows everything all to hell. louis vaguely remembers making a powerpoint to explain this phenomenon once when he was properly drunk.

 

it's nearly ten by the time he stumbles into the cafe, but that doesn't mean he isn't wincing and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. in a perfect world - or just a world where he hadn't stayed at the studio so long last night, meaning he'd gotten to bed earlier, meaning he had woken up on time - he'd love nothing more than to slip into the far booth and wrap his hands around the tea harry would have already made for him.

  


but it's not a perfect world, and finals are just around the corner, so instead he makes his way around the crowded tables, weaving his way to grab his apron from where it's hanging on a hook behind the counter.

  


"took you long enough," harry hollers over the overhead music. bastille's newest, he's pretty sure.

  


"i beg your very pardon, i'm a good five minutes early for my shift. just because you pissed liam off and he scheduled you for death o'clock in the morning."

  


harry laughs, and pokes his head through the door. "order up, darling."

  


the rest if his shift goes about like that, harry hugging him tight from behind when he has to  leave for classes around one. louis doesn't get lonely, though, liam is there to tease and aiden's coming by at three. well, he hasn't said he would, but he's aiden and he's dependable and he'll be there like clockwork.

  


to no one’s surprise, he comes and louis takes his lunch break. they sit at the table in the corner and split the sandwich louis made. it's a pretty fair replica of their first date when louis was caught off guard at the tall, quiffed boy who walked in and ordered a black coffee and a quiet place to study. the quiet hadn't lasted long, louis bringing him one coffee after another, catching snippets of conversations whenever he could. aiden had left with only half his essay finished and louis's phone number programmed in his phone, and left louis with a tip and a promise to come back the next day. and he'd just kept coming, to the shop and then out for drinks after and then, eventually, to louis's flat after.

  


"louis? earth to louis?"

  


right. aiden in front of him, not back at his flat. he's looking at him with a fond little grin, stroking the back of louis's hand with one fingertip. it always surprises louis, how someone so big and tall can be so gentle.

  


"sorry babe, what was that?"

  


aiden blushes a little and ducks his head, running his calloused fingers up and down louis's wrist and palm.

  


"just. i've got this gig? it's on saturday and it's not a big deal, just a pub in camden, but i was wondering if you're free?"

  


louis grins wide, can't help it. aiden is still so shy, after months of dating, always just that tiniest bit nervous to ask for things when they mean a lot to him. he leans forward and presses a quick kiss to aiden's cheek.

  


"i wouldn't be anywhere else, babe."

  


aiden's answering smile is blinding, and so worth whatever cramming louis will have to do to be there.

  
  


iv.

  


“hurry up, hazza, we’re going to be late!”

  


louis is bouncing on his toes, dragging harry along by the wrist. aiden had sent him a text twenty minutes ago asking where he was, but they'd gotten off at the wrong stop on the tube and had to wait for the next one and harry kept thinking he knew where they were, but now he can see the lights of the pub at the end of the road and harry's laughing at him, the little shit, but he's nearly running now so louis can't really justify asking for much more.

  


they make it inside just in time, as aiden is climbing up on the short platform. niall follows him up and settles in a chair in the corner of the stage, setting up his guitar and checking the amp. aiden looks a bit nervous, biting his lip as he scans the crowd. he could just be checking the numbers, but when he finds louis his face breaks into a huge smile and louis feels his insides melt.

  


aiden on stage is a thing of beauty. he's a bit awkward as he introduces himself, hands shaking where they're gripping the mic, but louis isn't worried. he knows the magic is about to happen.

  


and happen it does. the minute niall starts the first song - a slowed down version of thriller that louis has heard a thousand times - aiden's eyes drop shut and he changes completely. the tension seeps out of his shoulders. he sways a bit, and by the time he finishes the first verse the pub has gone nearly silent. louis is absolutely smitten.

  


when he finishes the song and cracks one eye open, the crowd erupts in clapping and cheers. he waves a bit, mutters a soft "cheers," and then goes right into the next song.

  


"how's it feel to be a bonafide groupie?" harry teases when aiden plays one of his original songs and louis is the only one singing along. he flips harry off quickly without missing a beat while riling the rest of the audience into clapping along.

  


"get me another drink, slave."

  


harry's eyebrows furrow, but he can't repress his smirk. "thought i was your princess, princesses don't get drinks for groupies."

  


louis would be annoyed, but he's too happy. he shoves harry out of the booth and keeps singing along to aiden's wicked acapella cover of gold digger, louis's personal favorite.

  


it's a great show and louis is so proud he's going to burst, always cheering extra loud when aiden glances over to the booth where he and harry are tucked away. aiden's hour is nearly up when he turns from the mic to niall, whispering frantically. louis can see niall's eyes widen, then he smiles and nods, takes his guitar off and hands it to aiden.

  


"i've got just one more song for you, if that's alright?" aiden raises his eyebrows and bites his lip a bit, like he thinks someone might actually ask him to go. when no one protests, he smiles again. "right, well, this is another one of mine, wrote it a couple of weeks ago, actually. this is for... well, you know who you are. hope you don't mind."

  


and that's. louis hasn't heard this, not at all. this is new. aiden straps the guitar across his chest and begins playing and singing.

  


louis is so enthralled that he doesn't notice harry coming up behind him until harry slips the beer into his hand.

  


"this a new one?" and, right, harry. harry would notice that it's new, because harry comes to every gig aiden invites him to. harry hasn't heard aiden sing about cupid, and how he tries to run but can't escape the chokehold. harry hasn't heard it because no one's heard it. no one's heard it because aiden just wrote it, just wrote it for _louis_.

  


right.

  


"yeah," louis breathes. "it's for me."

  


aiden is really into it now, eyes closed as he strums and it _sounds_ like louis, is the thing. more energetic than anything aiden usually does, bouncing and the tiniest bit silly and sad but mostly just fun and the crowd is eating it up, clapping along and hollering and everyone seems to be smiling except harry. harry is frowning, keeps looking between louis and aiden and his hands are shaking and, wow, this is going nowhere good.

  


"haz, what's your problem?"

  


louis is trying too hard to stay calm, relaxed, but honestly. harry is his best friend, and his extremely fit musician boyfriend just pretty much made a public declaration of his love and there's a lot going on in louis's head. but even then he's pretty sure harry should be happy for him or teasing him or anything other than looking like he's going to sick all over the table.

  


"this is for you? this is a love song, and it's. he wrote it for _you_?"

  


"uh, usually songs that have the line _i'm falling in love with you_ fall under the category of love songs, yes."

  


"so, what?" harry demands, "is he in love with you?"

  


he slams the beer down on the booth and is staring intensely at louis, angry in a way louis doesn't see all that often. and the song is over, everyone is cheering and aiden is grinning over at him, eyed hopeful and wide and a bit uncertain and louis can't _think_ , harry's looking at him and aiden is looking at him and.

  


"since when is that a bad thing? he's my boyfriend and i'm pretty damn lovable and-"

  


he glances down at the table and harry's fingers are balled into fists so hard they're white.

  


"and are you," it's quiet, sounds like the air is being ripped out of harry's lungs, "are you in love with him?"

  


aiden's making his way over, accepting congratulations and claps on the back but keeps looking over at louis. louis feels like harry is a fuse he has to diffuse, and fast.

  


"can we not, like, do this right now?" he looks up and harry doesn't show any sign of moving. "please?"

  


harry's face goes hard, lips setting into a thin line and apparently it was the wrong thing to say. louis should've known.

  


"right. well. fuck you, louis, i'll see you around."

  


he reaches across louis and grabs his jacket, spinning on his heel and booking it for the front door.

  


"um, louis? is everything okay?"

  


aiden's standing in front of him and no, everything is not okay, louis a bit wants to curl up and cry, or at least do some hyperventilating. but aiden is standing in front of him and sounds nervous because he just sang a song he wrote about louis and for a heartbeat louis feels so sorry for him. because anyone who has the misfortune of  becoming attached to louis tomlinson is definitely deserving of pity.

  


"you absolutely smashed it, babe," louis says as he jumps up and throws his arms around aiden's neck. he can't deal with everything, but he can fix the little frown on aiden's face. one thing at a time, the rest of it going in a little drawer in the back of his head marked 'later'.

  


aiden grips him tight, presses a kiss to the side of his head. "i'm sorry, i should've told you before, i just wanted to surprise you. was it... okay?"

  


louis pulls back, but only a bit, only enough to look in aiden's eyes. "no, yeah, i wish i had known you were going to open with thriller, i'd have offered up my services as a backup dancer."

  


aiden rolls his eyes but he's fully smiling now, so louis counts it as a win. "not that, i meant. you know. the other bit."

  


louis kisses the tip of his nose, and aiden's face crinkles on instinct. "i loved it, babe. absolutely brilliant. thank you."

  


"you two done being all sappy? because i need a drink and i'm pretty sure groupies are supposed to buy drinks for guitar gods."

  


louis rolls his eyes at niall but grins.

  


"well when i meet one, i’ll be sure to hook him up then. you too, aiden?" he slips out of aiden's arms and crosses the to the bar.

  


"two beers, thanks."

  


the bartender smiles at him as she fills his drinks, but when he picks them up her smile wavers a bit.

  


"hey, are you okay? your hands, they're shaking pretty bad, do you need-"

  


"fine, thanks," he replies shortly. he turns and takes a deep breath, willing his hands to go still before he makes it back to aiden and niall.

  
  
  
  


v.

  


the next evening louis finds himself standing outside his own door, bouncing on his heels and adrenaline pumping through his veins. he's on a high from a studio session working with perrie, and he's going to need that for what's coming next. he knows how fights with harry go, and if the scene he put on the night before was anything to go by, this is going to be a doozy of a battle.

  


they don't fight often, hardly ever really. they're both easy going enough that things like dirty plates and milk being gone don't bother them. but every once in a while, something will worm its way under someone's skin and it will be world war three. screaming matches, vicious pranking wars, even the one time harry tried to pull louis's date while he went to pick up the pizza the three of them had ordered (the pizza had lasted longer than the date, and the battle that had raged over it had lasted longer than either of them). it's not surprising for it to last days and days until, almost simultaneously, the wind goes out of their sails and they end up cuddled on the couch, trying to apologize and make up for days of lost touches in the span of a few hours.

  


just got to make it to that point, louis thinks, and before he can turn around and run back to aiden's he pushes the door open.

  


"what the hell was that, harry?" he demands as he bursts through the door. his hands are bunched in fists at his side, ready for the fight.

  


harry, on the other hand, just stands, stupefied, eyes wide and hand barely managing to hold on to the lit match in his hand.

  


and.

  


what?

  


matches. candles. and is that italian? their table is set for two, their spiderman and batman plates next to wine glasses they'd picked up from a charity shop, and where did that tablecloth even come from? harry's iPod is plugged in and playing something soft and delicate.

  


this is bad. this is so, so very bad.

  


"um, you're home," harry says after a few seconds of silence. "home early, i mean, i wasn't expecting -"

  


"what is all this?" louis asks, even though he's 100% sure he doesn't want to know the answer.

  


harry fiddles with the cuffs on his crisp white button down - honestly, _formal wear_ , if that isn't a bad sign louis doesn't know what is - that's covered by the ridiculous frilly apron louis's mum had sent him as a joke when they moved into their own flat.

  


"um, dinner? please just sit. i made your favorite!"

  


he pulls out louis's chair on his way back to the kitchen where a timer is blaring. louis is... he doesn't know what he is, but he definitely does know he isn't ready for this. harry cooking isn't exactly new, he's the only one between them that does, but louis's adrenaline is still spiking from the flat out brawl he was expecting. now that he thinks about it, this could easily be a trap, harry lulling him into a false sense of security before poisoning the salad or something.

  


“harry?”

  


“yeah, lou?”

  


“what in the salad?”

  


“what?”

  


“never mind.” louis will just be a little extra careful, that’s all.

  


harry comes out of the kitchen balancing a tray of french bread in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, biting his lip in concentration. louis wants to laugh, feeling so suddenly, overwhelmingly fond of the boy standing in front of him. no matter how apprehensive he is for whatever harry is about to say next, right in this moment he knows. harry is his best friend. no matter how angry one or both of them may be, he’s still the most important person in louis’s world. and louis can set aside any irritation and anger can wait until later because, well. he knows a white flag when he sees one.

  


they sit on either side of the table and dig in. harry very carefully doesn’t ask about aiden or aiden’s gig, and louis doesn’t bring it up either. harry talks about his final project for anatomy, how he’d hoped he could reuse a project from biology a few terms earlier but how he’ll have to start from scratch. louis listens, makes appropriate noises and gives his input, teasing harry gently about trying to cut corners. harry rolls his eyes but he’s smiling.

  


"this is great, hazza, thank you,” he says gently, as harry fills his wine glass and settles back in his own chair. the smile harry gives him is blinding, and louis feels something settle in his chest. he’s okay. they’re okay. whatever they were going to fight about, it’ll be fine because they’re harry and louis. best mates for life.

  


“so, i’m in love with you.”

  


he might as well have thrown a bucket of ice water across louis's face. harry's so cavalier about it too, not looking up from where he's helping himself to some of the pasta. there's a slight tremor in his hands, but louis can't think about that now. all he can think of is harryharry _harry_ and what is he doing and -

  


"why would you say that?"

  


he wishes more than anything he could take it back, say it again. make his voice into something strong, demanding, angry instead of just small and terrified. but he can’t take it back, and harry can’t take back what he says. suddenly all he can think about is some science documentary he’d seen once, how sound waves never really disappear, they just reflect around forever and ever, losing energy but never disappearing. his words are there, and harry’s words are there, vibrations reflecting off his ears and the walls and the wine glasses and louis can’t make them go away, be he can try to cover them up with other vibrations.

  


“has liam sent you a schedule for next week? the term’s winding up and i am absolutely pissing myself over the routine for my choreography class -”

  


“louis.”

  


“- and the stupid dance company at the school takes up _all_ the time in the studio, it’s nearly impossible for me to get any floor time unless i join up with their demon forces -”

  


“ _louis._ ”

  


“and i can’t make myself do that, i have more respect for myself as an artist -”

  


harry slams his fork down on his plate hard enough that louis jumps and falls silent. “fuck’s sake, louis, can’t you just. say something?”

  


“have you not been listening?” his voice is higher, reedy and raspy like it gets when he’s about to cry and louis _hates_ crying, he’s not even sad but he’s upset and apparently that’s a thing that happens when he’s angry, it’s quite possibly his least favorite thing about himself. “i’m telling you it’s the end of term and i’m stressed out and you’re stressed out and we need to figure out our work schedules -”

  


“okay, so i tell you i’m in love with you and your instinct is to tell me about work? honestly?”

  


now it’s louis’s turn to slam his fist down, standing up and gathering up his plate. he’s sure it was delicious, harry’s cooking always is, but he couldn’t stomach anything right now if he tried. “no,” he tries a bit more calmly, “i’m telling you that i’m stressed and you’re upset and we’re both so tired we’re clearly not thinking straight. we both need to go to bed and we’ll talk in the morning because whatever you think you’re saying, you don’t mean it.”

  


okay, so maybe the calmly part doesn’t work so well, he’s shouting by the end. but that’s totally justifiable, he’s in the kitchen now and trying so, so hard to keep it together, taking the tupperware down from the cabinet without slamming the door, carefully scraping the food into it, not throwing things and not screaming like he wants. later, he thinks, when harry’s left or he’s left, when he’s sleeping or just away, he’ll think about it when he’s away. when he can’t feel harry surrounding him on all sides in a way that’s usually comforting but now threatens to choke him.

  


“why are you being like this? i just said i love you, not that i murdered your dog. i’m not... i don't get it. why is it okay for aiden to give you his heart but i can’t give you mine?”

  


he’s moved to the sink, scrubbing at the sauce splattered on the plate. it’ll stain if he doesn’t get it off, and it’s only spiderman but even he doesn’t deserve sauce staining his suit. harry’s crowding up behind him now, hands on his hips in a way that is so familiar, they’ve stood like this a thousand times but it’s _different_ now, harry had to go and make it different and louis can’t breathe.

  


“you’re not giving me anything, harry, you’re asking for things that you know i don’t have to give.” his plate is as clean as it probably will ever get but he doesn’t stop scrubbing, if his hands aren’t busy they’ll shake so hard they’ll probably fall off and who’s ever heard of a dancer without hands? “you’re asking me to be someone that i’m not and it’s different with aiden.”

  


“how?” harry demands.

  


it’s a fair question. louis takes a breath, tries to calm his racing heartbeat. it’s different because aiden is safe. aiden is coffee dates and a song written about him played in between covers and songs about other people who have broken his heart and slept in his bed. aiden is drinks with niall and a kiss goodnight, and texts saying _i miss you_ just because he does.

  


harry is leeds. harry is leeds and friendship bracelets and an apron louis’s mother bought for him and ratty converse left in the hallway for louis to trip over. harry is stupid concerts for bands that no one’s ever heard of and perfect cups of tea and home. harry is home and never having to say _i miss you_ because they’re never apart. harry is permanent, and louis is not.

  


“because you’re nineteen, and i’m twenty one, and i’m fucking tired and, and you have an anatomy project due next week and i need more studio time and rent is due soon and -”

  


“you’re not making any sense, louis!”

 

it’s all there, everything louis is feeling is there in between the words. why can’t harry hear them? harry always hears everything he puts in between his words and if he can’t right now, when it means the most? well, that just goes to show.

  
  
“i can’t,” he swallows, silently praying that his voice will stay steady, just for a few more seconds, “i can’t be here right now.” the plate drops into the sink with a loud clank and louis flinches at the noise, but it doesn’t stop him from brushing past harry and practically running for the door. everything is welling up in his throat and in the back of his eyes and he can’t think straight.

  


“fuck,” he hears harry breathe out as he pulls the door open, “that is _not_ how i imagined this going.”

  


louis laughs, a bit hysterically. if harry actually saw this - cooking a nice dinner, lighting candles, declaring his undying love for his lifelong best friend - any different whatsoever, he clearly doesn’t know louis at all.

  
  


vi.

  


the music fades out and louis tries to hold his breath until the last possible second, afraid that any movement at all will break the spell he’s cast. he's in a bridge, tip toes and left hand holding him up with his right hand reaching up towards the ceiling, head bent and brushing the ground. the three limbs holding his weight are strong, and knows he can hold it as long as he needs to. quick little breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth, muscles straining and shaking but don't break until -

  


the three professors sitting in the audience burst into applause. he finally allows himself to exhale deeply in relief. he pushes off his back hand and rolls up to standing before taking a bow. his instructors are beaming, and louis lets himself grin back. he's spent so long, worked so hard, and every one of them know it. they beckon him to stand at the edge of the stage for his review and feedback. louis isn't even nervous, he's more proud of this performance than any he's done since he played danny zuko back in sixth form.

  


"you choreographed this piece yourself, is that correct?"

  


louis nods. "i've spent a long time thinking about melding genres. my main focus has been contemporary dance, but i've been studying hip hop and jazz pretty extensively and i wanted to incorporate some of those elements. my feeling is that we've reached a point in society where we don't need such rigid lines between schools of dance. we live in a globally incorporated world, and dance should be a reflection of that."

  


his global dance professor sitting on the left of the panel wink at louis, and louis winks back. he'd written a five page essay arguing that same point the year before when his professor had been pressuring him to choose a specific genre to focus on.

  


“and what exactly would you like to incorporate from different genres into your contemporary style?”

  


louis has _got_ this. it’s in the bag.

  


“contemporary currently has a reputation as being lyrical, smooth, and that’s great. there’s nothing wrong with that. but the energy and aggression displayed in hip hop could just as easily be incorporated into contemporary. this song is a perfect example, the artist is singing about his inability to commit because of the sins of his father. he’s never had an example of a healthy relationship, so he has no idea how to execute one himself.”

  


“the artist being...” she consults her notes, then quirks an eyebrow at louis. “kanye west?”

  


“yes ma’am.” and what wouldn’t louis give for harry to hear what’s about to come out of his mouth next. “kanye west made an interesting choice in utilizing a strong classical piano and cello sound in his instrumental track, layering it with a sharp rhythm drum and his own vocals. it’s this meshing of sounds  that makes the song work, and it strongly complements the tone of the lyrics - namely that he sees the flaws in his approach to love and sex and romance, and feels guilt over it, but refuses to change his ways. instead he is forthright about it, stating - and i quote - now pick your best move, you can love it or leave wit it.”

  


a smattering of giggles sounds from backstage, and louis glances over to see perrie, leigh-anne, jade, and jesy all peeking out from behind the curtains. they flash him thumbs up and duck back out of sight.

  


the questions continue for a while - louis is quizzed on how he got started in dance - a worn out single mother desperate to find a way to get his energy out had signed him up for lessons with his little sister. lottie had dropped out after a few weeks, but louis had become obsessed with it - and his aspirations - teaching as much as anything, which was a great time for him to casually mention mentoring little mix. he wasn’t trying to name drop, but he’s going to milk everything he can out of this - and finally his current commitments and ties to london.

  


and that’s quite a question, isn’t it? what ties do you have to a place where you’ve lived for all of your adult life, however short that time may be? louis is a creature of habit, he has ties to everything from his job to his favorite spot on campus to the crabby old woman who works behind the counter at tesco’s. he has ties to aiden, to harry. louis has ties to london because london has ties to harry.

  


“nothing i can’t get out of,” he replies with a smile. he hopes it looks far more natural than it feels.

  


“in that case, i think i speak for the entire board in saying we’re very proud of you, louis. you’ve done exceptionally well here, and we believe that if you were given the opportunity, you could successfully continue your education and go on to do great things in the arts. we’d like to offer you an invitation that we’ve recently received from one of our partner schools for an extended study abroad program...”

  
  
  


vii.

  


it's tense in the flat, but when hasn't it been lately? it feels like even the books on the shelves are folding in on themselves, afraid to take up more space than is necessary. louis is intimately familiar with the feeling.

  


he hasn't seen harry in days now, not since the big argument. it's his fault as much as harry's if he’s being honest. he's been spending the night at aiden's more often than not, switching shifts with liam so he wouldn't have to share with harry. liam had been confused, of course, usually louis was driving him mad to schedule him with harry as often as possible. it's so weird how he never gets sick of him, never gets bored. it doesn't seem fair, really.

  


the teapot whistles, breaking louis out of his thoughts with a start. it's too quiet, that must be it. all he needs is a little white noise and things will be far less eerie. his iPod is still plugged into the speakers like it has been for days. he puts on an old album by the script. partly because it's comforting, but mostly because it feels like a white flag. harry may not even come home tonight, louis wouldn't blame him if he didn't, but. just in case.

  


he's nearly settled into the evening now, chinese takeaway on the counter - he'd picked up their usual two orders without giving it much thought, and is doing his best to not think about it any more at this point - and music turned up just enough that he can sing along without feeling self conscious. also loud enough, apparently, that he doesn't notice the door open. he feels harry, of course, always does. louis takes a deep breath and forces his shoulders to stay loose, but doesn't turn around. it's just harry. his best friend. he can do this, they can get through this. they've gotten through worse before, right?

  


"remember that concert? best show of my life, it was."

  


harry scoffs a bit, but louis can hear the smile in it. "we weren't even there together, louis, i wouldn't know if it was the best."

  


louis hops up on the counter, crossing his legs and reaching for a carton of chinese before responding. it's as comforting as a bedtime story for the two of them by now, the words sound as comfortable in louis's mouth as worn down pages in a child's book.

  


"but you were there, seat thirty four in section b, and i was in forty two b. you were walking back to your seat and happened past me, and i asked you to take a picture of me. you asked what was in it for you, all the cheek of a fifteen year old, and i said -"

  


"- you said you'd repay me with a friendship bracelet, because that's what concerts were for, making friends. i remember. i was there, lou."

  


he's teasing though, and there's only a bit of hesitancy as he reaches past louis to grab the other carton, orange chicken just for him.

  


"i gave you my favorite, you know, the one right off my wrist."

  


"and fizz was furious when you got home without it."

  


she had been; he'd spent hours with his sisters making the stupid things so lottie could trade them around her class. it had been all the rage at the time. louis had ended up with three on one wrist and one on the other, stacked high with the beaded bracelets and string bracelets and rainbow bracelets the twins had made him a few weeks back. jewelry was a big deal for girls, apparently.

  


louis may have been a little pissed when he'd asked the random kid with the mass of curly hair to take his picture. but his mum had asked him to let her know that he'd made it safely to the venue, and a picture sounded like a good enough idea. the boy had grinned at him and asked him to say cheese, and louis had given him a big grin and two thumbs up and had only winced a little at the flash. the colorful threads, all woven together in something that was supposedly artistic, felt like a small price to pay.

  


the bracelet still sits there on harry's wrist, next to the wristband from the leeds fest they'd gone to a few years later, and an entrance bracelet from a trip to the zoo. harry's wrists, honestly. louis isn't sure if he's ever seen them bare. the memories make him more daring, and he reaches out to fiddle with the beads dangling from the leather cord wrapped around his left wrist. harry jerks back as if he's been burned, and it hurts more than louis thought was possible.

  


"i'm not fifteen anymore, lou."

  


"i know that," louis snaps back, a bit harsher than he'd meant to. and that's the problem, isn't it? harry isn't fifteen, or even sixteen and biting his lip as he stood in the doorway of what would be _their_ halls, looking for all the world like a lost kitten. they’re older and harry is long and lean and strong and bold and, apparently, in love with louis.

  


“so you don’t have to walk around on eggshells around me, we already cleared things up and i... just don’t not come home. i’m fine, i’m over it.”

  


and that’s as shocking as anything else. how can harry possibly be over it? louis isn’t over it, he’s pretty sure he’ll never be over whatever it is, so how can harry be over it?

  


“this isn’t the kind of thing you just get over, haz. it’s there, okay? i don’t want you to hurt, i just don’t know how to do this.”

  


harry laughs, and louis knows he’s going for cold and indifferent but it mostly comes out as hurt. “probably should’ve thought about that before, louis.”

  


“before what?”

  


harry’s pacing now, frustration seeping out of his skin and louis can see, so clearly, how he’s trying to hold it together. trying to be an adult. there’s no part of louis that doesn’t ache for him in that moment, this boy who holds as much of him as he has to give.

  


“i dunno, maybe before you decided you'd rather putter around being scared instead of being with me? maybe before you built these massive walls so damn fast? i thought i was there, i thought we'd gotten past all this. i thought... i thought you knew."

  


don't let him say it, louis thinks. don't let him say something he can't take back. "knew what, hazza?"

  


harry blows out a breath and leans back against the counter, eyes shiny and hands shaking in a way that makes louis want to die inside.

  


"i'm pretty sure you're the love of my fucking life, louis tomlinson. it's not some stupid crush, i'm not drunk and i'm not jealous and i'm not stressed. i mean, i am, but even when i'm not it's still you. whether i'm drunk or sober or happy or sad, it's always you. always been you. i thought you'd have known by now."

  


it's quiet for a minute after that. louis is absolutely frozen. he can't process, can't breathe. all he can hear is his heartbeat pounding out of his chest, his blood roaring in his ears. he's so overwhelmed that he's not thinking clearly, barely registers what slips out of his mouth.

  


"well i guess it doesn't matter now."

  


"what does that even mean?" harry is very, very still, eyes hard on louis's face.

  


"i got a scholarship to this dance academy. it's a really amazing opportunity. they, they want me."

  


"that's great, lou," his voice is cautious, confused at the change in topic. "the one here in london you're always talking about?"

  


"it's in new york."

  


harry drops the carton of orange chicken he's holding. it's not even dramatic, just as if someone cut the strings holding him up and he lost all ability to function. louis flinches, but doesn't move.

  


"new york? as in... new york, new york, in america?"

  


his voice cracks, throat raw from all the yelling. he sounds lost and little in a way he hardly ever does anymore. louis is furious, still, but he hates it. the thought of harry hurting has always and will always hurt louis.

  


"yeah, hazza,  america." it sounds weird even in his own ears, scratchy like it's being ripped out of his throat. he suddenly feels very small, too small for his clothes, much too small for the kitchen, the flat. minuscule when compared to the city breathing outside the windows. he feels it acutely in that moment, how very large london is and what a tiny piece in the puzzle that he is. that's what he loves about harry, they don't mean much on their own but when you put them together, it's more. a little world of two. this is what louis is so afraid of losing.

  


"but... you're... i can't... i can't sleep without you."

  


"the co-chair of the dance chair helped set it up, it's a really prestigious university,” louis rolls on ahead, trying to pretend that harry hadn’t just said what he said. “she thinks i could really learn and grow more there, in a specialized environment. i'm going to take it. and, like. the timing isn't bad, maybe we need a bit of space. we have been living in each other's pockets for years now, it could be good for you to -"

  


"oh, so it's on me now?" harry's back to pacing like he's going mad, like he can't stay still or he'll burn. "because i brought this up, it's over? i dared to think that there might be something between us, and don't deny there is, so you fuck off to america?"

  


louis doesn't respond, and that seems to be enough of a response for harry. he sinks back to the floor, defeated.

  


"i'm twenty one, harry," louis finally says, slipping off the counter to sit across from harry on the ground. his voice thick and wet, on the edge of tears but won't let them show. "you're nineteen. it's not supposed to work like this, we can't -"

  


"we can, though, lou, we can if you just -" he's shifted now, kneeling in front of louis and his eyes are so wide, fingertips digging into louis's thighs like he thinks he can physically drag louis to see it his way.

  


"well i don't want to."

  


and there it is. the rift. the schism they can't reach across. louis nearly wants to take it back, now that he's faced with the reality of harry being... not there.

  


"right," harry is saying. he rakes his hand through his hair, pushing it back just to shake it forward again in a motion as familiar to louis as breathing. "well i guess that's that."

  


he pushes off the ground, dusting his shaking hands off on his trousers. louis doesn't move from his spot on the floor as harry picks up the spilled takeaway and throws it away, doesn't look up as he walks into his room and gently shuts the door. it gets deathly quiet again, only the noises of the city outside and the soft strains of the script still floating through the flat.

  
  


viii.

  


after harry's reaction, louis is pretty much terrified at the idea of telling anyone else about america. sure, he thinks his family will be happy for him, but he'd thought harry would be happy for him too and, well. yeah. that had gone over real well.

  


turns out his mother is thrilled, way more than he would've thought. he calls her a few nights later and tells her about his review, smiling proudly as she laughs out loud when he tells her he danced to kanye west.

  


"so they liked it, then?"

  


louis bites his lip. "yeah, mum, they loved it. said i was brilliant."

  


"well that's not news, is it?

  


louis huffs out a laugh. this is way harder than he thought it would be. "they. they think that i could really go far with this, but maybe not where i am. they think there might be other places that are more tailored to my personal style and philosophy."

  


he can hear the frown in her voice. "what's that supposed to mean? is that your way of easing me into the idea that you've been kicked out?"

  


"no, no, nothing like that," he says quickly. "it's a good thing. they've offered me a scholarship to do an exchange program with another school. it's really amazing, one of the best in the world, and they think i'd do well there."

  


"okay," jay says slowly. "an exchange program? another school where, exactly?"

  


louis tells her and she's silent for a minute, then bursts into tears.

  


"no, mum, it's okay! they'll pay for everything if i want to go, and nothing's even set in stone, i don't have to, i can stay -"

  


"oh, stop it. it's not that at all. i just... i'm so proud of you, boo. you have no idea how proud i am."

  


and just like that, all the anxiety and tension sitting in his chest disappeared. "glad all those dance lessons paid off, huh?"

  


"well glad," jay laughs. it's still a bit wet, and louis can just see her wiping carefully under her eyes to keep her makeup from streaking down her face. "i expected nothing less from you, all the effort i put into finding teachers that didn't want to wring your neck after one lesson."

  


"you're not wrong," louis replies. "and now i'll just become world famous and you can pay to color all the grey hairs i gave you."

  


jay's laughing, and louis is laughing. he knows it wasn't that funny, but the relief is bubbling up inside him so strongly and has to come out somehow. they talk through the logistics - school starts in september, but there's a paid internship starting the end of june, just teaching beginning modern in an inner city studio, and louis is desperately excited for it. he has enough saved from the last couple of years to cover airfare and living for the first couple of months, provided he doesn't go crazy on american fine dining. at the end of the school year he'll be able to decide if he'd like to finish out his education at the academy or come back to london, but they both know that once he makes it there the chances of him wanting to graduate in london are very slim.

  


"if i can make it there i can make it anywhere, right?"

  


which of course leads them into an impromptu rendition of new york, new york, and by the time louis hangs up he feels lighter than he has in days.

  


aiden is excited for him too, which louis honestly wasn't expecting. he'd asked aiden out to dinner, a little italian place near campus where they'd been dozens of times before, yet never seemed to get tired of. louis's hands are shaking as he explains it to aiden, what a big deal this is and how he was one of only five students in london who were offered the opportunity.

  


“but that’s brilliant, love. why would you be nervous to tell me?”

  


louis shoots a look at him. he hadn’t mentioned that, but it’s so typical aiden. reacting in a way that’s completely selfless, just giving louis the opportunity to get out what he needs to get out. they don’t often get serious with each other, but when they do it always feels like this. aiden reads him like an open book but never pushes.

  


"i just, it's in new york. i mentioned that, right?"

  


"yeah, of course," aiden says.

  


"so..." louis isn't sure what to say. he'd expected some yelling, maybe a bit of name calling. tears at the very least. "you're not upset?"

  


aiden smiles and reaches out to take louis's hand across the table. "louis, as your boyfriend i'm absolutely gutted. but as your friend, i'm chuffed to bits. this is amazing for you, and you've earned it."

  


louis smiles a bit at that. "i don't know about that, i'm just really, really lucky i caught their eye."

  


"hey," aiden tips up his face with a finger under his chin so louis is forced to look him in the eyes. "you're incredibly talented, and you work hard. you deserve this, alright? don't listen when that little voice in the back of your head tries to tell you differently."

  


louis rolls his eyes at that, but nods. aiden leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. "so this is it, then? with you and me, i mean?"

  


it hurts more than louis would've thought to heard him say it out loud. "i'm really sorry, aid, you know how much i care about you, and if it wasn't for this i think i -"

  


"gotta say, i'm a bit surprised."

  


that stops louis midsentence. "what's surprising about it, exactly?" he asks cautiously.

  


aiden goes back to his plate, pushing the pasta around more than actually eating any of it. "i just sort of figured that, if anything, we'd be over when you realized just how much styles is in love with you."

  


louis's jaw drops a little. "i beg your pardon?"

  


"well," aiden says thoughtfully, "you've been in love with him since long before i met you, and i'm pretty sure he's loved you longer than that. i figured sooner or later the two of you would figure it out and i'd have to gracefully step aside, because as an artist i'm contractually obligated to not stand in the way of true love."

  


"true love?" louis can't help the sputtering little laugh that escapes at that. "honestly, aiden. harry's my best mate, there's nothing more than that going on. i can assure you. i would never." the lie itches a bit under his skin, especially since he's still caught in the aftershocks of their fight a few days before, but he's not. they aren't. they haven't.

  


"lou," aiden says gently, "i'm not mad. i wouldn't be. i knew how it was when i met you, and i've known it every day since. i've just been really happy to have the chance to get to know you in the meantime."

  


louis’s eyebrows are raised, looking at aiden with something akin to disbelief. “how are you real life?” he finally manages.

  


“i learned something a long time ago. when you feel things, you can either keep them inside, or you can live to regret it.”

  


“is that along the same lines as dying a hero or living long enough to see yourself become the villain?”

  


“joke all you want, louis, but eventually you’re going to realize that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side.”

  


louis drops his gaze, and his smile. “it isn’t about grass, aiden. it’s about... it’s about quantum entanglement.” aiden raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t interrupt. “there’s this thing in physics, right? where two substances can get linked together to the point where it’s impossible for them to break apart. and it’s awesome, right, it’s how hydrogen and oxygen combine to make water. it’s a fact of life. but the thing is, once those two substances have become, you know. entangled. it’s impossible to break them apart. i mean, i guess if you have an atom splitter or something, but the point is -”

  


“the point is, aiden break in, “that we need to get you some chamomile tea or something, because those late night documentary marathons are probably melting your brain.” it’s gentle when he says it, and when louis looks up aiden nods, as if to say he understands. louis isn’t sure how he could, he probably didn’t even explain it right, but it’s as close as he could come, and aiden isn’t angry, and there’s a chance he may get out london alive.

  
  
  


ix.

  


now that he's told aiden louis really can't pretend like his departure date isn't coming up fast. it's less than two weeks away and it's nice, really. his head is so filled with travel plans and little boxes to check off that he doesn't have too much time to think about the one big goodbye he hasn't quite figured out how to do.

  


his friends help a little, niall and liam coming over and helping him pack his stuff while only demanding two large pizzas in return, lou bringing over food and a card made by lux, his dance instructors giving him loads of information on the school and what to prepare for.

  


the day before louis is set to leave, jesy, jade, leigh-anne and perrie throw him a going away party. they show up an hour early and decorate the place like mad, streamers and confetti and hats.

  


"it's an end of term party as well, so don't go letting your head get too big," jesy admonishes while placing a sparkling tiara on top of louis's head. the rest of the girls are wearing them too, and it seems like a fair way to wrap up what might be one of the most ridiculous chapters of louis's life.

  


louis straightens up and checks his reflection out in the shine of the pan he's scrubbing. apparently it 'isn't appropriate to have company with dirty dishes in the sink', according to the girls.

  


"you guys know you didn't have to do this, right? i feel bad that you're putting all this effort in and it's not even your flat."

  


because it's his flat. his and harry's flat. harry who he hasn't seen in days, communicating mostly through texts. louis told him about the party a few days ago but hadn't asked if he would make it, afraid to hear the answer.

  


"oh hush, you," perrie growls from across the room. louis really hopes she'll get drunk enough to do some of her impressions, perrie does the best impressions. "if we didn't want to be here we wouldn't be here."

  


"yeah, lou, we love you," jade stops where she's mixing up a bowl of punch and snuggles under his arm for a moment. "we just want you to know how much you're loved and appreciated."

  


"also jade just bought a new dress and wanted a special occasion to try it out," leigh-anne hollers from the living room. jade sticks her tongue out in her general direction but doesn't argue. louis can't help laughing, and feeling a pang of how deeply he's going to miss these girls. he wonders, not for the first time, if it maybe wouldn't be better to call the whole thing off.

  


by the time the time the guests start to arrive the flat is completely transformed. it's clean for the first time in ages and bright streamers and a huge "we'll miss you louis" banner hanging across the wall. niall and aiden arrive first, niall having been nominated as dj (louis's first choice would've been harry, but breathing the same air seemed too much to ask, let alone creating a soundtrack for his last night home) and anxious to get his system set up. aiden hugs louis close in the doorway, pressing a kiss to the top of his head but nothing more. louis squeezes back a little too tight, because he's missed aiden, of course he has. aiden had asked for space and louis wants to give it to him but so many things are changing so quickly, and he just wants to pretend for a minute.

  


"hey, hey, easy. you're alright, love," aiden whispers close to his ear. "this is no time for tears, yeah? it's a beginning as much as an ending. don't forget that."

  


he smiles tenderly and rubs his thumb under louis's eye to catch a tear that somehow leaks out. quite without his permission, he might add.

  


"right, party, drinks! they're set up in the kitchen.  right through the doorway on the -"

  


aiden ducks his head a bit but when he looks up he's smiling. "think i remember the way to the kitchen, lou, cheers."

  


right. two guests down and louis is already blubbering. "gonna be a great party," he mutters under his breath.

  


but surprisingly, it is. one friend after another shows up, niall plays a steady stream of good tunes, the food is great, and really everyone important from louis's life is there. at one point he leans back against the front door and surveys the room. his mum had made it down from doncaster and had brought his sisters, and he can see jesy and lottie standing in the corner of the room comparing makeup tips. liam and niall are chatting away next to the sound system, liam probably badgering him yet again to take over louis's job now that he's leaving. friends from classes over the years, study groups, coworkers, pretty much everyone he's ever wanted to keep in his life.

  


all but one, anyways.

  


as if on cue, there's a sharp rap at the door behind louis's head. he jumps, smacking his head and, ow. he rubs his head as he turns to open the door, and there’s harry, holding a tray of cupcakes in one hand and a six pack of beer in the other. he looks... damn it, he looks great, hair styled and a blazer over a t shirt, legs going on for miles and louis is. louis is probably drunk, that's the only explanation for leaving harry standing in the doorway while he stares like an idiot. speak of the devil, he thinks, but all he manages is an awkward, “um,”

 

harry looks down and smiles a bit, dimple deepening before he looks back up at louis through his fringe. "hi, can i come in?"

  


that shakes louis out of his stupor. "yeah, of course," he waves harry in. "welcome. welcome to, um, your home."

  


harry raises one eyebrow and laughs at that, and louis's insides ache at the sound. it's been so long, weeks, since he's heard harry laugh like that.

  


everyone cheers a bit when they see harry come through into the room, and daisy and phoebe tear themselves away from the telly to come wrap themselves around harry's legs. he hands louis the beers and sets the cupcakes down on the table so he can pull them up into his arms. they've always loved harry, and now even louis's mum is crossing the room to pull harry into a hug. louis watches as she kisses his cheek, asks after his mother.

  


"you'd know better than i do, you talk to her more often," harry says cheekily and jay rolls her eyes, but he's not wrong. their mothers have grown incredibly close, best friends just like their sons. louis knows without a doubt that when he's gone his mum will still send harry all the cute cards and packages she's been sending to louis since he moved away, cookies and pictures from the girls and he wonders if anyone will even miss him. if harry will even miss him.

  


but then harry glances over and his face folds in on itself a bit, like he's feeling the same ache and tug that louis has been feeling since harry stormed out of their apartment weeks ago. like maybe he's been kicking himself for wasting the time they have left together as much as louis has been. and it's stupid because louis knows, he knows what they're fighting about, but for one night he doesn't care. he just wants his best friend back. maybe he'll be lucky and they'll both pretend like the whole thing never happened and they can have one more night of just being _louisandharry_ again.

  


harry must be thinking the same thing, because once he untangles himself from jay and the kids he comes over and wraps his arms around louis, pulling him in tight.

  


"let's not tonight, okay?"

  


he must feel how louis sags in relief against him, but he doesn't say anything. louis wants to ask where he's been staying, how his finals went, and some small part of him that's overwhelmed and confused wants to ask harry to ask him to stay one more time, half convinced that he'd say yes this time. but instead harry gestures to the cupcakes on the table.

  


"it's the only thing i could think of, i figured the girls would have a cake covered."

  


louis just snuggles under his arm and clings to him, follows him around as he floats around and talks to people. every once in a while louis will notice a look on someone's face, it's clear when harry is talking to niall and liam, there in liam's creased eyebrow that he's worried about louis, worried about why he's wrapped around harry when they haven't been together in so long, but louis doesn't speak, just presses his face deeper into harry's side.

  


when they run into aiden - it was bound to happen, it's a small apartment and only so many people to talk to - harry tenses and louis is worried that he's going to say something stupid, do something stupid, but he just bites his lip and then sticks his hand out for aiden to shake.

  


"he's leaving us, then, is he?"

  


aiden smiles a bit, but it doesn't reach his eyes as he looks at harry sadly. "reckon we should start a louis tomlinson abandonment therapy group, hazza?"

  


"i can hear you, you know, i’m standing right here," louis tries to cut in before harry can do something stupid, like reply. he glares, but aiden stands his ground, stares back calmly. they've talked about this, aiden knows why louis is going, so why can't he just cut louis some slack? harry’s biting his lip and looking between them like he’s not sure who’s side he should be on.

  


“right then, moving on, see you in a bit, aidey,” louis says. he breaks eye contact first, and he’s pretty sure he saw in a documentary once that in the animal kingdom looking away is labeled as a sign of weakness, but. he’s leaving for america by himself in a few days, he’s allowed one night of being soft and unguarded. now that harry’s here it’s perfect, everyone he loves all in one place, all here because they love him and will miss him and pressed flush against harry’s side, he’s okay. just for the next few hours, he’s completely fine.

  
  


once it hits midnight, things start wrapping up and people head for the door. there’s a big poster by the door that everyone signs on their way out, sloppy kiss prints and threats of dismemberment if he doesn’t keep in touch, and aiden had scrawled a few lines of the song he’d written for louis, and under that _just so you don’t forget how we see you, i’ll be sure to credit your arse as inspiration when i’m a millionaire - aiden_. it makes louis smile, at least, and he makes sure to fold it carefully before tucking it away in a suitcase.

  


the girls leave early in the night, perrie’s arms wrapped around leigh-anne’s waist as she drags her away after telling louis in no uncertain terms that he was in charge of cleanup. “we love you, lou bear, but i have a girl right here who’s well fit and handsy when she’s drunk. we’ll see you at christmas, yeah babe?” and with one last wave, leigh-anne and perrie head out the door. the others trail out one by one or two by two.

  


louis’ sisters are already dropping off to sleep, worn out from the excitement. louis watches harry pick the twins up one by one and place them carefully on the couch, covering them with a thick blanket as louis chats with his mum about the apartment he has set up in new york. he aches, absolutely aches, with how much he misses harry even though he’s standing right in front of him.

  


“i’ve got the twins set up, if you and lottie and fizz want to share louis’ bed he can bunk with me,” harry says to jay. he runs a hand through his fringe and looks tired. louis figures he hasn’t been sleeping well lately, not any better than louis himself has. and if this is his last chance, then. well.

  


jay looks between them for a minute, then finally nods and kisses louis on the forehead before heading down the hall towards louis's bedroom. louis had seen felicite head that way earlier in the night, and he isn't too surprised to look out on onto the balcony and see lottie out there on her phone, probably talking to her boyfriend. louis can't blame her, he knows that feeling.

  


"you coming?" harry asks. he has a hand on louis's hip and leans down to press a kiss into his hair, a little hesitantly but there. louis lets himself feel it for a moment, and then pulls away.

  


"you go ahead, i'll be there in a minute."

  


harry looks hesitant, like he's afraid louis is going to cut bait and run, but there's something he has to do before he can say his goodbyes to harry.

  


"...yeah, nah, you go to sleep. louis just got out here, probably wants to give me the safe sex talk before he runs away to broadway. talk to you tomorrow."

  


louis leans against the railing and can't help grinning. somehow at fifteen, lottie is exactly as mouthy and obnoxious as he had been. it's been a while since he's seen her, too caught up in school to have been home since easter. it seems like every time he goes away and comes back she's even more grown up. lottie doesn't look at him, just keeps her eyes trained on the lights of london that surround them.

  


"i'm not going to miss you at all," she says suddenly. he's sure she means it to sound careless, but he's been listening to her for her entire life, so he hears the slight tremor in her voice.

  


"okay, ouch, you brat," he says, nudging her gently with his shoulder. she exhales sharply, and she's smiling but the tears in the corners of her eyes are threatening to spill over. "well i'm going to miss you, next time i see you, you'll probably be married to that guy and popping out babies."

  


lottie rolls her eyes and laughs, and finally glances over at louis. he smiles crookedly at her, feeling the lump in his own throat getting bigger. "hardly. if it was up to you i'd stay a little girl with ruffled socks in the sandpit forever."

  


"yeah, you would."

  


he means it though. harry has always teased him for being peter pan, more afraid of growing old than anything, but looking at his sister right now, seeing the woman she's going to become... yeah. he wishes he could freeze them all in this moment, on the brink of so many things but never having to take that dive.

  


“you’ll look after mum, won’t you? and the twins? and help fizz, i know she bothers you sometimes but you’re the oldest now and with -”

  


“with great power comes great responsibility, i know, lou.” she takes a few more deep breaths  then looks at him with a real smile. “i’ll be fine. mum and the girls, we’ll be fine. harry’s going to be fine.”

  


“oh yeah? what about me?”

  


lottie tilts her head and looks at him thoughtfully. “well, you’re being a right idiot about this whole thing, but i reckon that eventually you’ll pull your head out of your arse and then you’ll be fine too.”

  


he laughs, expecting her to join in with him, but after a few seconds she’s still silent, looking at him with that appraising stare and louis did _not_ sign up for this.

  


“alright, little miss know it all, bed time for you i think.”

  


he swats at her arm and then pulls her inside, careful to be quiet and not wake the twins. lottie hugs him, quick and tight, and then stretches her arms high above her head and makes her way to his bedroom.

  


there’s music gently playing in the kitchen, and when louis wanders in he finds harry at the sink, washing the dishes and quietly singing along to what’s playing on his ipod.

  


“john mayer, right?” louis is sure he’d recognize the guitar style anywhere, even if he doesn’t know the song.

  


“yeah, his latest. pretty solid album, haven’t had a chance to listen to it too closely yet, but...” he swallows, the rest of the sentence lost in the strum of the guitar and the scratch of the wire scrubber against the bowl he’s holding. louis takes his hand gently and forces him to release it.

  


“they’ll keep, haz. we’ll have time to deal with it in the morning. bed now, please?”

  


harry follows willingly, letting louis lead him to the bathroom where they clean their teeth, then into his bedroom. louis strips his jumper off, looks away when harry does the same, then pulls off his trousers and grabs a random shirt off harry’s floor. harry is already settled in bed when he turns around, down to his pants and tangle of necklaces and bracelets, staring at louis through his mess of curls. it’s an image louis is pretty sure will stay with him until the day he dies.

  


there are so many things he needs to say, they both need to say. the madness of the last few weeks aside, harry is his best friend in the world. and tomorrow afternoon he’s going to get on a plane and fly thousands of miles away. harry’s not saying a word and this is usually louis’s job, to fill the silence, but he’s so tired, physically and mentally and emotionally and all he wants is to curl up with harry and stay there for as long as humanly possible. so he does.

  


as louis is drifting off, one of harry’s arms curled tightly around his middle and harry’s lips against the back of his neck, he hears harry whisper softly, “hey, lou?”

  


it’s too late now, all the damage is done. the flat in new york is waiting for him, the ticket is purchased. there’s nothing harry can do or say that can make things worse.

  


“yeah, hazza?”

  


“d’you think...” he purses his lips together, brushing against louis in a light kiss, “do you believe in fate? and like, destiny and all that?”

  


“sure. big believer in fate, me.” it’s on the tip of his tongue to ask why, but he doesn’t need to. not really. he knows, harry knows he knows, they both know what harry’s asking and what he’s saying and louis is ready to let it go, sweep it into the drawer to deal with later, but at the last second, when he can hear harry’s breath evening out, he gets brave. braver than he’s probably ever been.

  


“you’re my destiny, styles.”

  


it’s so cheesy it hurts, and it comes out as a whisper so soft he isn’t even sure that harry hears it. he feels so stupid, because everything harry said is right. he is running scared, running away from everything every is and everything they could be. and harry is going to call him out on it, he’s sure. he deserves to.

  


instead harry just burrows his face further into louis’s neck and sighs.

  


“you’re the yellow bird i’ve been waiting for,” he whispers back.

  


louis can’t hold back his smile. of course, _of course_ harry would declare his love through bright eyes lyrics. it somehow means more and less than any of the things they’ve yelled at each other. louis tries to stay awake for as long as he can, memorize the feeling of harry’s skin against his, but eventually sleep takes over.

  


x.

  


breakfast is a quiet affair, louis and his family and harry all walking to a cafe down the road. jay had tried to go in and clean the kitchen so she could cook something up, but louis had pulled her away.

  


"c'mon, mum, i won't have a chance to buy my favorite girls a meal for a while, indulge me?"

  


they hadn't even bothered getting properly dressed, the whole tomlinson crew stuffed into a booth in an array of messy buns and plaid pajama bottoms. harry is next to louis and is unusually quiet. his hand hasn't left louis's thigh since they sat down, but louis doesn't mention it.

  


"all packed up, then?" jay asks, even though she knows the answer.

  


"yep, sending most of it back up with you or in storage," louis says as he pushes his eggs around his plate.

  


"not as good as yours," he whispers to harry's ear. harry looks up at him and smiles, smiles at louis like he'd given him something. louis turns back to his eggs and shovels them down, ignoring the runny yolk and his too-sweet tea.

  
  


saying goodbye to his family is the hardest thing louis has ever had to do. harry goes into his room and gently closes the door, giving louis space with them.

  


"i wish i could drive you to the station, you know i do, boo, but -"

  


"mum, it's fine," louis says as he pulls her into a tight hug. "you've got work this afternoon, i get it. plus, you know me, i'd cause such a scene."

  


she starts crying at that, which triggers the other girls. louis wants to open his mouth and promise christmas hols, weekend trips home, spring break, but he doesn't know. he genuinely doesn't know when he'll see them again and if there's one thing he's learned, it's that it's better to not make promises at all than to make them and break them.

  


eventually he shoos his family out and harry joins him, the two of them standing on the pavement and waving as jay pulls out into traffic and disappears down the street. harry reaches out and takes his hand and louis is so grateful for him. there's no way he'd be able to handle this alone. they turn and climb the steps up to their flat when harry says "so, last few hours in london. anything you fancy doing?"

  


louis's stomach tightens at that. "never been out of the motherland, you know that?" he says, trying to keep his voice light.

  


"course i do, lou."

  


"you reckon they'll like me over there in the colonies?"

  


harry laughs, but pulls louis in close. "well, i'm pretty sure you can't call them colonies anymore, lou, it's been like 300 years since the war. you've gotta get over that. and course they will. you're a fit boy with a stupid yorkshire accent, they'll be gagging after you."

  


louis rolls his eyes, but feels a bit better. he surveys the flat, letting his eyes sweep over his home. it looks wrong, half empty. harry's textbooks are still on the shelves, but his dvd collection is missing. _this is what harry's life will look like without me_.

  


"so, final wishes?"

  


harry is looking at him expectantly. if he's honest, louis wants to sit on the couch and have harry wrapped around him until the last possible second, and then a few minutes after that. he can already feel his skin tingling, like those documentaries about war veterans who get limbs blown off but can still feel them years after. he wants to hold harry close and memorize the feeling of him while he still can.

  


finally he clears his throat. "want to make sure i have plenty of time to get through security, i should probably just head out now."

  


harry's eyebrows furrow. "what do you mean, you? i'm going with you, of course."

  


louis had hoped, but hadn't planned on it. he puts up a token argument - harry will have to pay for the ride home by himself, it'll be expensive and unnecessary - but harry doesn't listen. they load up with the luggage and harry calls a taxi.

  


it's gorgeous in june in london, warm and sunny in a way that it hardly ever is. their flat isn't in an especially lush part of town, but it's been home to louis for so long that he can't imagine anywhere else feeling anything like this. once the can shows up louis starts loading his bags into the boot. once everything is loaded, he opens the door and gets into the car without looking back. harry slides into the seat next to him silently.

  


"heathrow, please," harry says, and his hand is back on louis's thigh, fingers digging in so hard that louis is sure he'll have bruises for days and days. he likes that more than he'd like to admit.

  


the ride is too long and far too short and before louis knows it they're pulling into the terminal. harry gets out first, louis pays the driver and they both grab a couple of bags to lug into the check in counter.

  


"you have one suitcase just for your shoes, don't you?" harry says as he grunts under the weight of two of louis's bags. he doesn't even have the heavy ones, the pansy. "will there be someone there to pick you up at least? help you lug it all around?"

  


"didn't even think about that," louis says absently as he digs through his carry on for his passport. "i'll probably just rent a trolley or summat. hazza, have you seen my -"

  


his sentence is cut off completely when harry's hands grab his face and pull him in. it's not the best kiss louis has ever had, not even close. the angle is all wrong and their teeth clash and lips drag, and he's too stunned to do much participating. harry holds him completely still, mouths crashed together, and then pulls back only to lean in and press another kiss to louis's lips, this one gentle and soft and louis is pretty sure his lungs have exploded because there is no air anywhere.

  


"wanted to do that since that night at the concert in manchester," harry confesses. louis nods, because what can he say? how could he be expected to speak, there's no air in him.

  


"i'll write to you," harry promises. he's pulled away so only their foreheads are touching, but his hands still cup louis's face, thumbs brushing against his cheekbones. "i'll write and you'll write, emails and texts and skyping and i'll even write you letters, all the fuckin' letters you want. every day because i'm not giving up. you hear me, louis? you said it yourself. big believer in fate." he's smiling now, smiling and his eyes are wide and wet and he's so earnest that louis is sure he's going to be sick from the pure levels of adoration in harry's eyes. it makes him break apart inside, everything going frozen and then chipping apart bit by bit.

 

“no take backs?” he manages faintly. it’s worth it for the way harry closes his eyes and smiles hands still brushing louis’ face and through his hair as he nods.

 

"i've gotta... my flight, hazza, i've gotta go."

  


harry nods again jerkily and lowers his hands, steps away a bit. "let me know when you land?"

  


louis’ hands are shaking with the urge to pull him back in, but his arms are loaded with luggage so he stays where he is.

  


"i'll call you," louis offers as he shrugs a bag up on his shoulder, "it may be late, time zones and -"

  


"i'll wait," harry says simply. "however long it takes. i'll wait."

  


louis doesn't know how to respond to that so he nods and turns and walks toward the counter. by the time he's checked in for this flight and handed his bags off to be loaded onto his flight to jfk, he figures it must be safe and turns to look back at the spot where harry had been standing.

  


it's not safe. not safe at all. harry is still there, wiping inconspicuously at tears and eyes trained on louis, even through the crowd. louis gives him a crooked smile and a little wave, and then straightens his shoulders and turns away.


	2. part ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're interested, i have a tumblr tag with all of my inspiration for this story [here](http://sozbeyonce.tumblr.com/tagged/patient+love/). some potential spoilers, so watch out for that, but it's mostly just a lot of pretty.

_and new york is the most beautiful city in the world? it is not far from it. no urban night is like the night there…. squares after squares of flame, set up and cut into the aether. here is our poetry, for we have pulled down the stars to our will. - ezra pound_

 

i.

 

harry had been right about the luggage, there's way too much and louis can barely hold it up. he starts to hate himself for it, but then looks at it again. one suitcase, two duffle bags, a backpack. his entire life in one suitcase, two duffle bags, and a backpack.

 

it doesn't seem like quite so much, now that he looks again.

 

it’s a bit of a struggle to get it all to the curb outside, but he hails a taxi with relative ease. the cabby hops out and helps him load everything in the boot.

 

"where to, buddy?" the driver asks. his accent is so thick louis can practically hear jersey seeping out. he honestly hadn't realized people actually sounded like that outside mtv. louis grins a bit and pulls out an envelope filled with all the information for his new life. he reads off the address of his new home. apparently the guy who own the place will be back to live with him in september but offered louis use of his room until then, so for the summer the flat is all his.

 

the drive there might be the most stressful experience louis has ever had. he'd taken cabs in london, but it was nothing like this. the driver yells at other cars, pedestrians, and one time a particularly aggressive pigeon who keeps flying at the side of the cab. louis tries to take everything in with wide eyes and a white knuckled grip on the seat.

 

when they finally pull up in front of the building in brooklyn, louis is pretty sure that he's only seconds away from a heart attack. he pays the driver, grateful he had at least had the forethought to get his money exchanged before leaving the airport.

 

getting up the stairs with so much luggage is a hassle, but it's worth it when he finally makes it down the hall and is standing in front of his new doorway. he hadn't had any say in the apartment, the entire thing had been set up by his advisor and all he had was a key, an address, and the promise of two bedrooms and running water. that left quite a bit to the imagination; scenes of rats and mildew and asbestos run through his mind. louis takes a deep breath, unlocks the door, and pushes his way inside.

 

the apartment is nothing like he imagined it would be. the exposed brick walls are painted white, and furnished a bit minimalistically, only a table with four chairs and a futon set up across from a respectable sized television, the living room itself isn't impressive, but the wall around the futon is absolutely covered with pictures. louis has never seen anything like it, is absolutely fascinated. polaroids, posters, flyers from concerts. louis figures the tall boy with brown hair and a nice, easy smile must be his roommate, greg. he appears the most often in pictures, aside from a girl with shocking platinum hair and eyes that crinkle at the sides when she smiles. there are quite a few pictures of them kissing, holding hands, cuddling, so louis pegs her as the girlfriend. he'd been worried at the idea of having a roommate he'd never met,  but after seeing the shots of what must be drunk twister and a picture of greg and his girlfriend in the crowd of what looks like a britney spears concert, he figures they'll get along just fine.

 

louis doesn't bother checking out the kitchen - can't imagine he'll be spending much time in there anyway - and heads straight to the bedroom. greg has considerately left a sign on his door - a whiteboard that says GREG'S ROOM surrounded by drawings of hearts and flowers and a disturbingly accurate rendering of a dick - and a sign on louis's with his own name on it.

 

it’s obviously the smaller of the two rooms, but it’s one with the best view. or louis figures it’s the best view, because he can’t think of anything being better than this. there’s a fire escape right outside his window leading up to the roof, but louis can’t imagine ever needing that. from just sitting on his windowpane he can see the main street, long and busy and crowded with so many people. the sun is just setting and when louis crawls to fully stand on it, the warmth of the sun hits him all over his body like a caress. louis can't keep the smile off his face, it feels like the first one in ages.

 

once the sun goes down, louis busies himself with getting settled in his new place. there's a bed but no bedding in his room, so he figures he'll make a run to a store tomorrow to get groceries and other necessities tomorrow, settles for unpacking his clothes into the dresser and closet, and setting the few books and movies he's been able to pack on the beautiful bookshelf.

 

the apartment feels strangely empty and quiet by the time his adrenaline crashes and he gets tired. as he's lining up his shoes in the back of his closet it hits him - this is the first time in louis's life he's lived alone. his family, random roommates at uni, and up until tonight, harry. even if he wasn't sharing a bed with them, it's the first time in his life that he'll be going to bed without hearing someone else clean their teeth beside him, or down the hall. first time he'll be making tea for one in the morning. it's not the scariest thing that's happened to him today, but it's up there.

 

eventually louis pulls out his ipod and small set of speakers - a going away gift from niall - and puts it on shuffle. maybe once he gets some white noise he'll be able to calm down. after all, new york doesn't sound so terribly different from london. same cars rushing by, same footsteps of people on their way to their homes at the end of the day, or leaving their homes to get lost in the vastness that only a city with millions of people could provide. it's nearly all the same, louis thinks as he curls into a ball in the middle of the bed. a bit warmer, a bit more dry, only his own heartbeat and the tinny sounds of the new amsterdams blaring through the speakers to lull him off to sleep. he knows he must have a bad case of jet lag, but it still takes far longer to drift off than he's like.

 

he doesn't call harry.

 

ii.

 

the first night is the worst. definitely. louis is sure now that the first awful adjustment period is over he'll be just fine. his alarm wakes him around eleven the next day so he'll have a chance to get breakfast before meeting with his student advisor at noon. he's been emailing her since his formally accepted the offer and will finally get to meet her today.

 

once he gets showered and ready for day, he digs around in his backpack until he finds his phone. international charges are a pain, but until he gets a chance to get a new phone louis is stuck with shooting a quick message, asking when they can meet. the reply is almost instant, asking if she can just meet him at his place in ten minutes. louis is startled at first, then remembers that she's the one who arranged the whole thing for him to begin with. he wonders how close she must live to be able to reach him so quickly, but has no objections.

 

as promised, a sharp rap comes on his front door exactly ten minutes later. louis opens it to reveal two incredibly pretty girls. the first has wild curly hair and a wide smile as she extends a hand for louis to shake.

 

"you must be danielle," louis says. "please, come in."

 

danielle opens her mouth to respond, but the other girl pushes past him into the living room. "don't mind if we do. i'm so glad you're here, i left my sketchbook here right before greg left and have been going mad without it."

 

louis stands frozen, a bit confused but not upset. something in the girl's bright, bouncy demeanor reminds him of himself and sets him instantly at ease.  "eleanor," danielle scolds, "don't go walking all over people like that. say hello like the civilized person i know you can be."

 

but it's no use, eleanor is already on her hands and knees peering under the futon. "i'm so sorry about her, apparently she missed the lesson in primary school about manners," danielle says apologetically.

 

"don't mind a bit," louis assures her. "it's so great to finally meet you after all this time. i hope its not too much of an inconvenience for you to help me get settled -"

 

"hush, you," danielle says as she lightly slaps louis's cheek, "it's my job."

 

"don't listen to her, louis," eleanor calls from halfway under the futon. "she's been more excited about seeing someone from back home than she's been about anything in ages. aha!" she exclaims as she pulls onto her knees, a half empty bag of crisps in one hand and a large black sketchbook in the other. "besides, you're our neighbor. it's basically required that we make you feel welcome or you'll probably pay us back by being ridiculously loud in bed on nights we have class in the morning."

 

louis throws his head back and laughs at that. danielle smacks her forehead with the palm of her hand, but is looking at eleanor with a fond grin. yeah, louis is very familiar with that feeling.

 

"neighbors, huh? so that's how you got here so fast?"

 

"yep," danielle replies, plopping down on the futon next to eleanor and reaching out to snag a crisp out of the bag, "that's how we were able to get you set up with the flat as well. we're quite close with greg and ellie -"

 

"the girlfriend, and also the sickest musician you'll ever meet, honestly -"

 

"right," danielle interrupts, "the girlfriend. anyway, he was looking for someone to move in and you need a place, at least until you find one of your own, so i offered and he was really happy about it."

 

"probably just thrilled that he didn't have to put any effort into finding a flatmate, if we're being honest," eleanor cuts in again. louis laughs again, happy and warm.

 

the girls take louis to a coffee shop at the end of street, small and cozy and louis loves it instantly.

 

"alright, so danielle is monica, eleanor is definitely a rachel, i think i'd fancy myself a heady mix of chandler's sarcasm with joey's charm," he says as he winks cheekily at the girls.

 

"well popular with the ladies, then?" danielle asks.

 

"nah," louis ducks his head and tears at his bagel a bit. no matter how many times he's said it, his stomach still clenches a bit when he tells someone for the first time. "pretty good with the blokes, though." he looks up at them from under his fringe, and sees eleanor's face fall a bit, but quickly recover. danielle just smiles warmly at him.

 

"looks like we're just going to have to find ourselves a phoebe, huh?"

 

they take louis to a store to stock up on bedding, a bit of food - "we're wasting our time with that, honestly, i'm useless," - and a few other things he'd forgotten to pack. on impulse he picks up a card to send back to his mother, something cheesy about the world seeming a little less bright without her. if nothing else it should make her smile.

 

while they shop, danielle gives louis a rundown of the daily ins and outs of the program.

 

"the school has enough investors that tuition isn't strictly necessary for all students, "she explains as they wander down the aisles of one store after another, "but instead of making it a free ride for people, and discouraging actual effort, the theory is that the students who don't pay monetarily will instead pay the school back in time. depending on your focus there are a lot of different programs, inner city dance studios, beautifying parks and painting buildings around the city, teaching night classes, that sort of thing."

 

"so sort of like community service to repay your debt to society?"

 

danielle grins at him, pleased at how quickly he's caught on. "exactly! and because it improves the quality of living in the neighborhood, more people are willing to invest. not to mention it gives the students vocational training, and the program itself is designed to give people opportunities in the arts that wouldn't have had them otherwise. it extends the time of your degree a bit, but the training it gives you is well worth it, especially since you’re on scholarship."

 

"it's absolutely brilliant," louis says honestly. it's unlike anything he's ever heard before but it makes sense. "so where do you fit in?"

 

"it's sort of my senior thesis project. i dance, and teach dance especially, but once i got involved in this program i realized that i could go farther with it. i’m working on trying to make it an international accredited and acknowledged method of education. i obviously had some connections back home in london so i figured, why not start there?”

 

"don't let her be modest, lou," eleanor says, coming up behind them with hands full of sweets and a tube of lipstick, "this is her absolute baby. she's pegging her dreams on you."

 

"no pressure," he replies wryly.

 

"no pressure," danielle assures him, squeezing his arm tightly.

 

once they're convinced that they have everything louis will need to get settled, the three of them trek back to the apartment. it's late in the afternoon and louis realizes he's starving. as soon as he says as much eleanor insists that he come over for dinner, and louis doesn't have it in his to refuse.

 

he's relieved, if he's honest. danielle is warm and kind and, yeah, she's kind of invested in his success for herself, but she also seems to genuinely like him. eleanor is loud and funny and confident, and louis likes her right away. she brings out a playful, teasing side of him that he's missed. it's like having his little sisters around again, if his sister was twenty something fashion design major with a massive closet full of her own designs and legs that went on for miles.

 

eleanor is talking a million miles a minute about her summer internship while she chops up vegetables for salad, and louis and danielle sit at the table listening and smiling, rolling their eyes at each other occasionally. it's not home, louis decides. but it's not that far off either.

 

iii.

 

he's been in new york for three days before he gets the first email.

 

with danielle and eleanor's help he'd gotten settled with a laptop charger with an american plug and an american phone. he's in the middle of an email to his mum about his first dance class - it had gone surprisingly well; most of the girls seemed to be awestruck at his accent everyone at least had some level of comfort on the dance floor - when his laptop makes the ping noise indicating a new message. he opens it without thinking and regrets it almost instantly.

 

_hey lou,_

_never heard from you but mama tommo says you landed safe, you bastard. how's the big apple? have you been swept up in the glittering lights already?_

_liam finally convinced niall to take over your place at the cafe. he's happier in the mornings but much less graceful. less charming, too, i swear he nearly got in a fistfight with this hipster kid for slagging off justin bieber._

 

_miss you, lou. tell me about the big city?_

 

it was signed with a simple x, nothing special, but louis feels as if that x is made of stone and sitting on his chest. he slams his laptop shut, but not quickly enough. the words are still there behind his eyes. _miss you, lou._

 

what was he expecting? harry is his best friend in the world, they've been joined at the hip for years. it makes sense for harry to miss louis just as much as louis misses harry. louis is just better at burying it, always has been. and it's been easy to bury it here. he's got his class and danielle and eleanor to fill his time, exploring his new neighborhood and sitting on his fire escape feeling the sun on his skin. he's getting darker already, he can tell. he just doesn't have the time to think about harry hardly.

 

he's about to open the laptop and reply, really he is, when a text from eleanor pops on his phone.

 

_you free? just finished an insane workout and feel like treating myself to some sushi and an evening of teasing you about your stupid bieber haircut. x_

 

louis laughs out loud at that and shoots off a _you're on, karate barbie x_ and pulls on some shoes and heads to the door.

 

it's not that he's forgotten, not really, it's just. easier like this.

 

and it doesn't stop, is the thing. louis never gets around to emailing harry, but a week later when he gets home from a run around the park nearby there's another email waiting for him. he takes a deep breath, trying to slow his heartbeat before opening it.

 

_hey lou,_

_not sure if you got my last email, you're probably pretty busy living it up. no worries, mate, i'd be doing the same. just... tell me about it, maybe? even if it's just that you're too busy to talk. i won't be mad, i promise._

 

_your mum got your card yesterday, called me crying. she's so proud of you, misses you like crazy._

 

_i went out for drinks with the lm girls last night, they all say hello. perrie's never ending quest to get in leigh-anne's knickers continues. jesy says to tell you that she finally nailed the body roll to standing, whatever the hell that means._

 

_the apartment feels weird without you. don't quite know what to do with being in charge of the music all the time. how's your new place? have you met your roommate yet? x_

 

louis reads it over and over, letting the words sink into his skin. he could reply now, he has time. harry wouldn't be mad if he wrote back now. harry would laugh if louis told him about the lady who lives on the ground floor of his building and blasts hispanic music every morning at seven am. karma, harry would say, for how louis used to have dance parties to girls aloud on full blast whenever he cleaned the flat.

 

his fingers hover over the keys, only shaking a bit, then he loses his nerve. he closes the laptop with a sigh and strips on his way to the shower, desperate to wash off his run and the weight of harry's words.

 

iv.

 

the summer flies by faster than louis ever could've imagined. his head has barely stopped spinning from the big move when it starts spinning again with teaching his class, then finishing his class.

 

it's easily the most rewarding thing he's ever done. looking at his fifteen students now, at the end of the two month workshop, and seeing them able to jump higher and squat lower, watching their bodies do things they hadn't thought possible all those weeks ago, it's like magic. the greatest part, louis thinks, isn't just the transformations in their bodies, but on their faces. complete strangers that make plans for going out after class, and seeing kids who had been afraid of skipping in the beginning because they were afraid to look stupid perform their final routine with aggressive punches and chest pops, looking at their reflection in the mirror unflinchingly. louis may choke up a bit at that.

 

"in conclusion, i'd just like to say what a privilege it's been for me to teach you," louis says around the lump in his throat. "teach you and be taught by you, and get to know you as people. in case i didn't tell you enough, i think you are all just really, really great."

 

so screw him, he's a little emotional. the kids are smiling at him so he must not be doing so bad.

 

"this is easily my favorite part of the whole experience," he says, walks over to the light switch panel on the wall. his ipod is plugged into the wall and the perfect song pulled up and ready. he turns off all the overhead lights and flips on the floor lights so the students on the stage are cast in dark shadows. they look a little unsure, but louis just grins. he grabs the remote controlling the stereo then jogs up on stage with the rest of them. it's been easy to forget, when he's facing them and critiquing their movements, that they're only a couple of years younger than he is. he feels it keenly now though, slipping in the middle of the group.

 

they still look uncertain, until he presses play and the sound of strings fills the auditorium. louis closes his eyes and lets himself start to move. small at first, uncomplicated steps that a few of the students try to follow. he smiles encouragingly at them, then breaks out into more complicated moves, things they hadn't learned. a few of them seem to get it at that, and break from the mold. he sees one girl who had mentioned taking ballet as a little girl rise up into releve and spin around in tight circles. a boy who louis hadn't spent much one on one time with broke out in some of the best krumping he'd ever seen.

 

one after another each student closed their eyes and gave into the flow of the music. a few started singing along. louis didn't stop his own movement, but slowed a bit so he could watch. most were clearly using moves he'd taught them, but no two dancers were moving alike. this is it, he thinks. pure, unadulterated creation. movement and discipline and technique all rolled into one beautiful expression of emotion.

 

when the song finally ends, the kids freeze a bit where they are, but they're smiling so big louis thinks a couple of their faces might crack.

 

"get in here," he says, spreading his arms out wide. the students all crowd in, arms wrapped around louis and each other. they hold each other, laughing for a few moments, until louis pulls himself together and pulls away. "alright, alright, get off my stage."

 

the kids all laugh, but pull away and chatter excitedly as they head towards the exits. louis watches them go with a fond little smile before heading over to the sound system to collect his things.

 

when the kids have all drifted away and louis is nearly packed up, two sets of footsteps ring through the auditorium. he looks up to see danielle grinning hugely at him, leading none other than simon cowell, the director of the dance program.

 

"mr. tomlinson," simon greets, reaching out to shake his hand.

 

"yes sir, it's nice to see you again."

 

"hiya louis," danielle says, winking at him. louis smiles back. she'd warned him that simon wanted to sit in and see how the workshop had ended. louis wants to be nervous, feels like he should be nervous, but he's on such a high from the dance he can't bring himself to worry too much. he trusts his kids.

 

"i must say, louis, i'm very impressed with the work you've done here. i knew when miss peazer approached me with the idea it would be great, but this is really something special."

 

"oh please, simon," danielle scoffs, "you told the rest of the board that it would never get off the ground."

 

simon smirks a bit, but doesn't back down. "well. no matter. we believe you're going to be a great asset to the school, louis."

 

he reaches out and shakes louis's hand again before turning to go. danielle tries to school her face into a polite and professional smile, but she can't quite keep the delight off her face. louis throws her a big thumbs up, smiling just as big. danielle turns on her heel and follows simon up the stairs, leaving louis grinning like a loon.

 

normally he'd take the subway straight home, but it's a beautiful, sunny day and he doesn't have anywhere to be. he's in new york city, he's just finished a huge project, and he'd done it _well_. he'd been commended by the actual simon cowell, one of the greatest talent scouts in the country.

 

louis pulls his phone out, ready to call his mum and let her know. it'll cost a fortune, but it's so worth it. she deserves to know, right?

 

as he scrolls down on his phone, his thumb hovers over another number. harry has been emailing him once a week without fail since louis arrived in new york, surely he wouldn’t be opposed to louis calling him. and he would get it, is the thing. harry would understand better than anyone what it means that he’s made it here. harry would want to know about meeting simon, about the kids, about how louis chose one of his favorite songs to end the project with. and louis aches to hear his voice, he does. he has every day since he left.

 

a car beeps it’s horn loud, pulling louis out of his trance. he shakes his head a bit and laughs. “guess it’s too soon, then,” he says under his breath. instead he pulls up instagram, a stupid app that eleanor and danielle had gotten him hooked on. his sister has it too, and he knows she shows his mum every time he posts. he flips the camera around and takes a goofy picture of himself with the auditorium behind him and posts it with a quick caption about missing it already. lottie likes it right away, comments with a stupid smiley face. louis feels himself smiling again, heartbeat returning to normal.

 

when he can think about harry without his stomach tying up in knots, then it’ll be time. then he’ll call.

 

v.

 

greg arrives the monday after louis's dance workshop ends. he'd texted danielle earlier in the day saying that he and ellie would be there around ten, so any illegal substances louis may have laying around should probably be hidden away by then.

 

louis laughs out loud at that, as does eleanor. the three of them are sprawled on cheap pool chairs on the roof above their building. it seems like now that louis has experienced the bright sun he can't get enough. eleanor assures him that the sun here is nothing like california, but louis couldn't care less. his tan is getting predictably dark, but he's really in it more for the feeling. the pure sunshine beating down on his skin, warming him from the inside out.

 

"it isn't _actually_ a different sun than the one in london, you know that right?" danielle teases him.

 

"hush, you," eleanor scolds. "if the gorgeous boy wants to lie half naked on the roof then for heaven’s sake, let him." she shoots a wink at louis, and he grins back at her.

 

“i suppose this means i should go and start cleaning the place up then?” louis says, lifting himself up on his arms to arch his back like a cat. school is starting soon, and he’s been working with danielle to make sure he’s where he needs to be physically, prepared for a heavier load of classes than he’d ever taken in london. of course, he doesn’t have to worry as much about finances, will probably make it through at least the first semester without a job. but classes on top of teaching once a week will be a pain until he gets the hang of it, gets used to taking a subway to school and ordering french fries instead of chips. but danielle and eleanor help, and from what he knows about greg, they should get along great.

 

"where has he been again?"

 

eleanor rolls onto her back and reaches for the cooler full of ice lollies they'd brought up. "ellie got a few gigs out in los angeles this summer, playing small festivals and recording a demo, stuff like that. and as ellie goes..." she waves her hand and louis gets the picture.

 

his phone pings with the notification of a new email, and louis is smiling before he even opens it.

 

"think i'm gonna head in, girls," he says casually. or he hopes it comes out casual, but at the knowing grin danielle shoots him, he figures he probably misses the mark.

 

he makes his way down the fire escape and crawls through his window, but doesn't bother putting a shirt on before throwing himself down on his bed. last week harry promised that he'd attach pictures from liam's birthday party. louis had emailed liam a picture of himself and the girls with a cupcake they'd eaten in his honor, and liam's _jerrrrrrk luv u the most thxxxxx girls xxx_ had been almost as soon as seeing liam, but not quite.

 

_hey lou, once again liam's birthday has come, signaling the end of summer and the start of term. i'm a bit nervous if i'm honest. i told you i got accepted for pre-med, right? well this will be my last year before actual medical school and the classes are mad. make organic chemistry look like a walk in the park. i hope i'll make it through okay._

 

_i'm sure you don't care about that, though, you're here for the juicy details! liam absolutely loved the picture you sent him, once he was good and pissed he kept pulling it back up and talking about how fit the girl with curly hair is._

 

_here are some pictures. aiden came, fair warning. he said you guys ended okay, but haven't really talked since you left. i don't know if it'll upset you to see him, if you miss him or anything, but. just in case. my ugly mug isn't in too many because i've been assigned the role of photographer since you left. don't have your eye, though._

 

_was a great party. would've been better if you had been there. niall says he misses your smell. i think he was drunk, but i know the feeling. i ran out of laundry detergent and couldn't remember which one we always got, so i ended up with some stupid mountain breeze one. which is so stupid. i'm sure mountains smell like goat piss and mold, who would want sheets that smell like that? don't know what i was thinking, really._

 

_turns out it's clean sheets. that's what your shirts smelled like. not actual sheets, but that’s the scent. you probably already know that, probably... anyway. talk to you next week. x_

 

true to his word, harry had attached a few pictures. louis can only see small thumbnails on his phone, but he thinks he can make out liam blowing candles out on a cake, and one of niall and aiden and a few of their other mates burying liam in a doggy pile on the couch in their - harry’s, louis corrects himself - flat.

 

he doesn’t look at those, though. he zeroes in on one picture in particular. half the picture is filled with people dancing around, jumping waving their arms. he sees niall in the far back at a dj table. but the other half is harry. he only gets about half his face in, one eyes and his stupid fucking dimple, half a smile and half his nose, but it’s the closest louis has been to him in months. he can’t keep himself from reaching out and running his finger over the screen. his hair is shorter, ears peeking out from underneath. only half his face is in the picture, but louis knows that smile like the back of his hand. harry is only lifting one corner of his mouth, just enough to deepen his dimple, eyes soft and heavy. he must be well on his way to drunk at this point at the night. his curls are disheveled in a way that suggests he’d just shaken them into his eyes, then pushed them to the side right before taking the picture.

 

louis aches.

 

“lou, you in here? i... hey, you okay?” eleanor climbs through the window but stays on the other side of the room, like louis's personal space takes up the whole room and she's afraid to intrude.

 

"i'm, yeah, of course," but even as the words come out of his mouth they feel wrong. he's not fine.

 

"do you want to talk about it?" eleanor asks cautiously, taking a small step forward.

 

the answer is no, of course. louis doesn't want to talk about it, not with eleanor or danielle or his mum or anyone. he wants to curl up in a ball, wants to get this picture printed big enough that it will take up half his wall. he wants to stand on his fire escape four stories up and drop his phone, watch as it hits the ground and shatters.

 

“someday,” he finally. “not today, but someday.”

 

the pictures send louis into a mood, the kind of thing he usually tries to avoid but it is helpful with getting the flat cleaned up by the time greg gets home. eleanor stays with him the rest of the afternoon and evening, distracting him with food and conversation any time louis starts to fall back down into his thoughts. louis is annoyed at first, begging her off when she offers to make cookies to celebrate greg coming home.

 

“honestly, el, it’s not that i don’t love you to bits, but i really need to be alone for a bit right now.”

 

eleanor looks up from her laptop where she’s been pouring over recipes and catches louis’s eye. for a minute louis is sure she’s going to come over and hug him, but she doesn’t and he’s grateful. instead she just holds his gaze and keeps her voice even. “i know i come off as shallow, okay? i’m not mad about it, i get caught up in fashion and culture and my own little world a lot. but that doesn’t mean i’m stupid. i know what it looks like when someone wants to be alone, and i know what it looks like when someone should absolutely not be left alone. so,” she says, finally breaking eye contact and going back to her laptop screen, “you finish up vacuuming and i’ll see if i can’t scramble up enough ingredients to try these red velvet cupcakes, huh?”

 

louis stares for a minute. it’s not like he’d thought eleanor was stupid, but more than once he’d written her off as shallow, or simply one of those people who was so convinced the world revolved around them that they tend to convince other people of the same thing. he’d figured that their similarities stopped at the superficial, that eleanor was far too beautiful and confident to know what it’s like to hurt like louis hurts. it’s entirely possible that he’s underestimated the girl sitting in front of him.

 

it doesn’t take much longer for the cleaning up to be finished once eleanor puts on a dance party mix, the two of them singing along with rihanna and beyonce as they clean and bake. louis is next to useless in the kitchen, mostly just stirs when eleanor tells him to stir and fetches ingredients for her, but it feels nice. once the cupcakes are in the oven, he wraps his arms around her and kisses her gently on the cheek.

 

“thank you, el. honestly.”

 

she just smiles at him softly and then pushes him away. “off with you, go put on the telly or do sit ups shirtless or something until they’re ready to be iced. i demand entertainment.”

 

louis laughs, but does as he’s told and puts on the television.

 

“oooh, real housewives is on?” eleanor squeals as she curls in next to him on the futon.

 

“well, yeah,” louis says, “but so is fatal attractions.” they grapple for a bit, but it’s half hearted on eleanor’s side. turns out she loves animal planet just as much as louis does.

 

before louis knows it, he’s drifting off. the cupcakes are safely out of the oven and iced, and he’s sun warm and eleanor is soft and just as tactile as he is. it’s been so long since he’s had someone to fall asleep next to, he can’t help but relax into the feel of another heartbeat next to his.

 

the sound of a “oh good hell,” startles him awake, though eleanor stays dead to the world. by the light flooding the kitchen louis can make out one very tall person sitting at the kitchen in front of the plate of cupcakes, and another person standing in front of him with arms crossed in front of her body.

 

“well, well, isn’t this something,” the person in front of him says, sounding amused. “honestly, eleanor has her own room. in her own apartment, even.”

 

once louis blinks the sleep out of his eyes, he sees that it’s a blonde girl standing in front of him. “ellie?” he guesses, and by the way she smiles at him, he figures he’s got it right.

 

“ellie, don’t you dare do anything to scare this one off,” a warning voice comes from across the room. louis sits up, careful not to jostle eleanor awake, to see greg peeling the paper off a cupcake. he smiles wide at louis but doesn’t move. “hiya, i’m greg, nice to meet you, you’re my favorite.”

 

“how very dare you,” ellie says mildly as she moves to sit on greg’s lap. he opens his arms to make room for her, but nearly growls at her when she leans forward and tries to take a bite out of his cupcake.

 

“he made me cupcakes ellie,” greg says. “ _cupcakes_. i’m trading you up for a newer, shinier model.”

 

louis laughs at the face ellie makes, but mostly just grins as greg feeds ellie a bite in spite of his earlier protests. the way he looks at her, with complete and utter adoration, it’s hard not to have his insides melt.

 

“anyway, it’s pretty late,” greg says after a moment. “we’re going to crash and we’ll be properly introduced in the morning, yeah?” he stands and stretches, pushing ellie gently off his lap. she blows a kiss to louis where he’s still trapped under eleanor, winks at him before she wanders off towards greg’s room. “we’ll start over fresh, pretend tonight didn’t happen, but i’ll be completely predisposed to love you,” greg finishes. he waves and wanders after ellie, running a bit to catch up with her and hug her from behind as they walk towards the bathroom.

 

louis probably should follow them, pop out his contacts and go to his own bed, but eleanor is deeply asleep and he loves the feeling of matching his breaths with someone else, feels like he’ll be able to sleep well for the first time in months. so instead of getting up he just burrows farther in the joint of eleanor’s neck and lets sleep take him.

 

vi.

 

classes begin and immediately sweep louis away, a blur of classrooms and studios and "oooh, you're british!" day in and day out. he settles into a routine fairly easily, aided by his friends. danielle works with him especially, as both a friend and mentor, and louis couldn't ask for anyone better. she's patient and kind and doesn't argue when he whines about the diet she puts him on.

 

"my bum isn't going to shrink, dani, trust me."

 

"it's not about your weight, don't be daft," she scoffs. "it's about treating your body with respect. and respect means no takeaway."

 

louis moans and complains, but after a few days of learning how to cook and increasing his fruit and vegetable intake, he had to admit that he felt a little better, a bit sharper around the edges.

 

greg is awesome too. ellie doesn't live with them, has a place of her own close to the school, but she's over enough that louis stops being surprised when she comes in unannounced. they're that rare kind of couple that so clearly adores each other, but doesn't alienate the rest of the world. they never make louis feel like a third wheel, always including his in their pranks or outings or dinners on nights in.

 

greg has been true to his word, predisposed to like louis. though, he's beginning to suspect, greg is predisposed to like everyone, which makes everyone pretty much predisposed to like him right back. he captures the heart of everyone who comes in contact with him, friendly and open in a way that reminds louis so much of niall. there’s that same level of excitement and passion about everything in life. greg gets more excited when he’s talking about his music producing courses than louis is sure he’s ever been about anything in his life, long gangly arms gesturing wildly and eyes lighting up. it’s utterly charming, and louis gets along with him much better than he could’ve asked for.

 

it’s weird at first, living with someone that isn’t harry. louis expected it would be. greg’s toothpaste is different, his sleep schedule is different, he’s different. when louis leaves his dishes in the sink for two days in a row, greg doesn’t clean them up with a pointed sigh, but leaves passive aggressive post-it notes above the sink that make louis laugh as he takes care of them. he’s never once woken louis up with eggs on toast. it’s not better, it’s not worse, it’s just. different. louis lets himself lean into the discomfort until it doesn’t hurt so much. he learns, slowly, that it’s just as easy to put his shoes in the basket by the door, mixed with ellie’s combat boots and greg’s sandals, as it is to leave them strewn across the floor. he learns to set his alarm to something loud and annoying so he’ll wake up on his own. it almost feels like his insides are reshaping themselves, sloshing around to fill the spaces that harry used to occupy.

 

it’s not like he’s forgotten, or stopped considering harry his best friend. never once since he’s moved here has a day passed when he doesn’t hear harry’s voice in his head, judging one song or another. harry’s proud smile dances behind his eyes when he nails a particularly hard routine. and every monday, like clockwork, louis gets an email. it’s so ingrained in his mind at this point that’s how he tells the days apart. wednesdays he hops on the subway and teaches a dance workshop in manhattan, sundays are brunch with eleanor, mondays are emails from harry. through them he learns about everything he’s left behind. perrie and leigh-anne finally getting together, niall landing a contract to play for a small record company, the stress of harry’s medical finals. he feels the first frost of the year, can taste the cheap pints from their favorite pub.

 

louis cheers with harry, laughs with him, aches for him, and never writes back. it’s been too long, he reasons. harry had long ago stopped asking if louis would respond, and instead writes like journal entries. dear diary, dear louis. he devours the letters like a starving man. it’s almost like being with him. almost like being home.

 

vii.

 

before louis knows it, it's the end of the term and finals are approaching. he's fairly confident in most of his classes; he's thrown himself into everything in a way he's proud of, every class making him more and more sure that he's made the right choice by coming here.

 

the only time he thinks to regret it is when everyone starts making plans to go home for the holidays. eleanor is meeting up with her parents in the caribbean, greg and ellie are heading down to washington to stay with ellie's family, and danielle is heading back home to england. louis is the most jealous of danielle.

 

"i do really wish you were coming with," she says regretfully. he's sitting on her bed, resting his chin on the tops of his knees. he wishes more than anything that he could go home as well, but it just didn't seem practical. it would cost nearly a month's rent for two weeks at home and his mum can't exactly pitch in.

 

he forces a smile and waves his hand at her. "doesn't matter, love. i'm living the dream, you know? christmas in new york. i'll lock myself up with annie and miracle on 34th street and elf and all the greasy pizza you don't let me have anymore."

 

danielle rolls her eyes, but she's smiling again so louis counts it as a win. she deserves this, really she does. it's been a few years since she's been able to go home as well, and louis knows she's been especially homesick since he showed up. she's been in a happy daze since her parents called to tell her they'd saved up enough to fly her home.

 

"i was thinking," she says, carefully not looking up from where she's folding her clothes carefully into her suitcase, "if you wanted, i could meet up with some of your friends? get coffee or something, let them know you miss them?"

 

louis narrows his eyes. he hasn't even mentioned harry, not in a way that would make her think he'd need someone to check on him. it's not that louis doesn't want to know, but he pictures danielle and harry sitting at a table, talking about him and that. that can't happen.

 

"no, it's okay. harry probably won't even be around, will probably be up in cheshire with his family for the hols."

 

danielle has gone from uncertain to full on uncomfortable now, gnawing on her lip and fidgeting with her hair. "oh," she says, "actually i was thinking i'd maybe. maybe i'd look up liam?"

 

it takes louis a second to catch on, but once he does his grin lights up the room.

 

"you like him!" he crows, laughing even more when danielle blushes and groans, but doesn't protest. "you want to meet him over coffee and talk for hours and fall madly in love and have cute little curly haired babies!"

 

it makes sense, really. they're alike in so many ways, both have that mother hen instinct that, frankly, louis looks for in friends. they're both too incredibly kind for their own good, and both mean the world to louis. plus, liam would be well up for it, he blushes and stutters every time louis mentions danielle, or she pops in the frame to say hi when they're skyping. now that louis thinks about it, they really are perfect for each other.

 

"hey," he says softly, reaching out to tug at one of her curls, "that would mean a lot to me. if you wouldn't mind."

 

she smiles at him then, small and shy and louis can already feel the cavities forming from how cute they'll be together.

 

"just, one thing," he says, and now it's his turn to keep his eyes down. "if you see, or like, talk to harry or anything. just. don't tell me?"

 

when he does risk a glance up, danielle is frowning at him with a furrow between her brows. "yeah, of course, lou. if that's what you really want."

 

it isn't.

 

"it is."

 

by the twenty second of december, everyone has gone their separate ways. ellie and greg had helped louis decorate their apartment before they left, so louis spends the next two days curled up in a ball on the couch in a winter wonderland, paper snowflakes covering the walls and tinsel wrapped around a plastic tree. he makes good on his promise to danielle and inhales as much takeaway as he can stand, but by his birthday he feels like absolute shit. apparently he's built up a sensitivity to junk food, and isn't that the saddest thing.

 

he skypes with his family in the morning, decidedly not tearing up at seeing his sisters proudly show off the christmas tree with a pile of presents. louis has his own stack of presents under his tree, gifts from his friends and a few parcels his family and friends mailed over. the twins insist on showing him the gingerbread house lottie helped them make, and swell with pride as he tells them it's the best house he's ever seen.

 

after about an hour, jay makes louis promise to get out of the house and explore. "it's christmas eve," she insists, "go ice skating or see the christmas trees, find the world's best cup of coffee!"

 

after a little grumbling and a lot of bundling up, louis does as he's told. he takes the subway into manhattan and spends hours wandering around. he feels like a proper tourist, walking around the rockefeller ice rink, gazing at the tree with wide eyes, warming his fingers around a massive cup of hot chocolate. he even lets himself spend a bit walking around f.a.o. schwartz, and the absolute madness is worth it for the picture he takes with a teddy bear that’s as big as he is and worth half as much.

 

once it gets dark and louis realizes he’s starving, he pops into a bar for dinner and a drink. it’s surprisingly crowded for a holiday, but as he gets settled at a table he realizes it’s because there’s a gig going on.

 

an unassuming ginger kid walks onto the stage, wearing a t shirt, converse, and an elf hat complete with ears. he’s carrying only a guitar and louis nearly walks out at that, not at all in the mood to suffer through a bad set of covers and christmas carols. aiden’s spoiled him, probably.

 

“hiya, everybody,” and louis sits up tall at that. after nearly six months in new york he can feel his accent slipping a bit, but hearing this guy’s strong london slur makes him feel like things are clicking back into place. “my name’s ed, and, uh, thanks for coming round on a holiday. hope it’ll be worth your time. let’s just get right into it, this is called sofa.”

 

and he’s good, is the thing. he knows his way around a guitar and his voice is incredible. he’s not too chatty in between songs, does a great bob dylan cover, and his lyrics are quick and clever and honest. by the end of the set louis is obsessed. he’s already at the bottom of the stage as ed makes his way down.

 

“it’s my birthday,” he opens with, “and you have to let me buy you a drink.”

 

ed’s eyes light up. “cheers, mate. always nice to see a friendly face.”

 

ed settles into louis’s table with him and orders a beer and some chips, blushing furiously when louis tells the confused waitress that he means fries.

 

“two weeks of touring here, you’d think i’d get used to it,” he mumbles as louis laughs.

 

“for what it’s worth, i’ve been here for six months and i’m still not used to it.”

 

that leads to a discussion of what louis is doing here, what ed is doing here, memories from back home. turns out ed is heading back to england in a few days, hoping to spend new years with his family. louis nearly tells him to look harry up; if there’s one person who would absolutely love ed’s music and his easy, laid back demeanor, it’s harry. he doesn’t though, lets it slip through his fingers like every harry-related opportunity he’s had since he got here.

 

instead at the end of the night he leaves with a hug and ed’s number in his phone, and a promise that ed will call him up any time he’s back in new york. louis can’t wait to introduce him to ellie. the two of them will get along like a house on fire. he takes the subway home alone, lets himself into his cold flat, but there’s a warmth inside of him that doesn’t fade with the snowfall. he’s alone, yeah. but not lonely. and besides, it’s christmas. he breaks out the stupid dvd of a fireplace that greg had picked up at the dollar store and puts it in the dvd player, letting the sounds of fake firewood crackling and coldplay’s cover of ‘have yourself a merry little christmas’ fill his little home.

 

viii.

 

"honey, i'm home!" danielle's voice rings through the apartment.

 

"in here," louis calls. he'd go to meet her, but he's under strict instructions to watch the water boiling on the stove. last time he let himself get distracted there was a minor catastrophe, so he's keeping his eyes trained firmly on the pot.

 

danielle prances in carrying a few large shopping bags and kisses him on the cheek. louis can't hold in a shiver; her lips are cold.

 

"be of good cheer! i bring good tidings of glad joy!" she says, holding out the bags and rattling them a bit.

 

"you're about a week and 2,000 years late for the baby jesus."

 

"oh hush, you, or you'll not get any of the prezzies i so painstakingly brought across the ocean for you."

 

louis perks up at that, finally looking away from the pot on the stove. it'll keep for a minute. he lifts himself onto the counter and grabs the bag out of her hand, peering at the wrapped packages inside and lighting up like a christmas tree.

 

"well the baby jesus did take presents from the we three kings of orient far a few days late, so i suppose i can follow his example," he says, pulling out one that's wrapped so carefully it can only be from liam. he shoots a sly grin at danielle, who blushes fiercely and suddenly finds something fascinating on her phone. he knew it, he knew they'd be into each other. with a mental pat on the back, louis rips into the package to find a set of shot glasses with london tourist sites, big ben and the london bridge and a red telephone booth. it's obnoxious and silly and louis loves it.

 

"i'm guessing this is his way of saying he forgive me for being an awful friend because i sent him a pretty girl?"

 

danielle just blushes deeper at that. "there's more in the bag if you behave, and they recorded a video for you on my phone."

 

louis instantly drops the bag and reaches out for the phone, making grabby hands at it. danielle laughs and clicks a few things, them holds it out for him.

 

the screen is dark and a bit pixelated, but louis instantly recognizes their regular spot at the old bar. a chorus of "hi louis!" comes from everyone as the camera pans around the booth, showing off smiling faces and waves. some changes are obvious; liam's cut his hair, perrie is in leigh-anne's lap, and danielle's giggles seem just a bit out of place, like his two lives are colliding without him at the center. but as each person wishes him a happy birthday and merry christmas and the camera lingers on them a bit, louis starts noticing other things. the shock of blue in jade's hair, the way niall is glancing over at jesy like a lovestruck puppy. and when the camera finally lingers on harry, he's gnawing on his lip and keeps shooting glances at danielle, as if wondering what he can get away with saying.

 

"well, come on then, say something nice to louis!" danielle's tinny voice comes through the phone speakers, her accent thicker now that she's surrounded by like voices.

 

"wait, is the camera on?"

 

it's been so long since louis has heard harry's voice, and there it is, slow and just a little bit slurred, like he's had a few beers but nothing more. louis feels like the air has been sucked out of his lungs. harry ducks his head and shakes out his fringe, embarrassed, but when he comes back up he's smiling again, big enough that anyone but louis would completely miss how it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

 

"happy birthday, boo," he says, followed by a chorus of cooing erupting from everyone else at the table, and then harry laughs, a real laugh, eyes sparkling and dimple coming out full. "shut up, tossers. anyway, happy birthday, boo, we miss you. love you, hope you're taking new york by storm."

 

danielle starts to pan away from harry to liam, and louis only catches what harry mutters under his breath because he's straining, and apparently six months isn't enough for his ears to stop being perfectly attuned to harry's voice.

 

"still love you."

 

"merry christmas, louis, miss you, happy birthday..."

 

liam goes in and presses his shoulder into the camera, wrapping his arms around danielle and earning a laugh from her - louis hopes it's danielle he's hugging, and not just the air around the camera, as stupidly adorable as it is - and he's saying more, but louis doesn't hear it over the intense wave of homesickness that crashes over him. when the camera pans one more time it lingers on harry for a split second before ending, frozen on his face.

 

it's suddenly quiet in the kitchen, and louis looks up to see danielle looking at him with a weird look on her face.

 

"i know you said you didn't want to know, but for what it's worth, he's good. he's really great, lou, such a great person. and think i," she swallows, hesitant like she's not sure if she should say it, "i think i understand you better now. after having met him."

 

louis nods, doesn't have to ask who she's talking about, so he doesn't. "can i... can i keep it?" his voices comes out high and a little strained, and it almost hurts to talk. and part of it, a huge part is harry, but it's so much more than that. it's the strains of the replacements playing in the background, the bar apparently having missed the memo that it's the christmas season. it's those little changes, niall and jade and he's never seen the shirt liam was wearing. it's a punch of comfort right to the gut, and it helps and hurts in equal measure.

 

"what, my phone?" danielle nudges louis and smiles a bit, trying to tease a smile off him, "nah, but i'll send it to you."  

 

louis doesn't even resist when danielle wraps her arms around him, sagging against her like the strength has been sapped from him. he genuinely hadn't realized how homesick he was until just now, looking at his friends and his life and it's not that he's unhappy, he's not. he's carved a life for himself in new york and he loves it. but that booth in that cheap bar a few streets away from campus is where a part of him lives. a piece of him only fits right when it's wedged in between harry and the wall, a drink in his hand, all the empty places filled and all his edges carefully wrapped up.

 

"thank you," he says, when he trusts himself to speak again. "this is really so -"

 

"uh, lou?" danielle is looking past him and pointing to the stove and -

 

"oh, shitbloodywanker _arse_ ," louis moans. the water has boiled away to nothing, probably ruining the pot and definitely ruining any motivation he may have had to finish cooking up his pasta. danielle cackles with laughter as he swats away at the steam frantically.

 

once the crisis is averted, louis heaves a big sigh. "and this is why i'm not allowed in the kitchen. what do you say we order takeaway and watch something crap on the telly while you tell me all about you and liam, hmmm?"

 

an hour later they're wrapped up on the couch, chinese cartons all around and it's a wonderful life muted as danielle tells louis all about liam. it's the strangest thing, seeing him through her eyes. seeing all of them through her eyes. louis eats up her words like a starving man, desperate for any news of home.

 

halfway through a story about the three orders of chips niall ordered and then inhaled, danielle reaches out and wraps her hand around louis's ankle, pulling it into her lap and gently, almost absently, starts massaging the skin. louis makes a questioning noise in the back of his throat, enough that danielle stops mid story.

 

"when i was about twelve, i hit a growth spurt," she tells him. "my legs felt like they were being stretched too fast and everything hurt all the time. i used to lie in bed and just cry for how much my muscles ached. my mum used to come in and do this, rub away the growing pains."

 

she doesn't say anything further about it, just goes back to describing niall's incredible eating habits and kneading up louis's calves. he doesn't fight it, just accepts the kindness and leans back, drinking up the picture danielle is painting.

 

growing pains, he thinks. it makes sense. somehow giving the aching a name makes it just a bit less overwhelming.

 

ix.

 

spring comes sooner in new york than it ever had in england, and when it does it’s glorious. it's like louis goes to bed to a harsh, cold wind and wakes up in some pre pubescent girl's wet dream; the blossoms on the tree burst into bright pinks and vivid greens and the even the sky seems a deeper shade of blue. the coats and scarves melt away, along with most of the shirts on the male population. louis can feel the warmth seeping back in, banishing the cold that had settled in between his bones. greg rolls his eyes whenever louis comes home smiling at nothing but the lingering warmth of the sun on his skin, but ellie gets it. louis likes ellie; she can stay.

 

"you're being replaced," louis informs greg. ellie is making some sort of flower crown for him and it looks utterly ridiculous, but far be it from either of them to say no. at least his has blue daisies, greg's has huge sunflowers that cover half his forehead.

 

it's silly and fun and ellie insists they wear them out to the store. louis is too sun-drunk and greg is too smitten to argue, so the three of them make their way down the street with arms linked, giggling at every strange look they get. mostly people just ignore them, a few even smile back. louis shuts his eyes and lets himself be dragged along, a blissful smile on his face. ellie yanks him to a stop at a red light right before louis walks into the crosswalk. his eyes snap open and land directly on a red convertible a few cars away.

 

here's the thing. louis sees harry all the time. When he first got to new york, louis saw him in every crowd, catching a whiff of his cologne or seeing someone wearing one of his old sweaters. it would push him gently out of his mind, leave his skin feeling too tight for hours. it still happens occasionally, he's just learned to deal with it. lots of people have curly hair. lots of people wear old rolling stones concert shirts. but this... no one else would be stupid enough to drive a convertible with the top down in the middle of new york city. especially not someone with a head of dark curly hair and louis can just make out the strains of the national blaring from the stereo.

 

"uh, lou?" greg asks hesitantly, "the light?"

 

shit, shit, shit. right. harry isn't in the little red car, because harry is in england. probably in their old flat watching old movies, or out at a bar, or asleep. he's probably asleep because the sun is setting here which means it's late in london and louis clings to that, forces himself to look away from the red car and back to the ground. he thinks back frantically, making sure he can still remember what harry looks like asleep, mouth slightly open and eyes fluttering, curled up on his side, snuffling a little with each breath. louis tries to match the image he has in his head. in, out, in. slowly he feels himself come back to reality, ellie and greg both giving him worried looks.

 

he smiles at them, feels wills himself to steady. "that was weird, i blacked out or something. think i'll need an extra big slice of cake tonight, ellie."

 

their faces relax a bit when he reaches out and links his arms around ellie's, tosses his head and starts walking across the crosswalk. he forces a big laugh at whatever stupid joke greg makes, throws his head back and lets the tension in his shoulders release. that was close, too close. he can't afford to lose it like that anymore. he's been in new york for nearly a year. harry is an ocean away and its normal to miss him, healthy even. he expected that it would be difficult. but he's been doing better at moving on with his life. harry is safe and fine and home, as his email in a few days will say. it's a thursday, and come monday he'll laugh when harry reports about spending his thursday hung over or cramming for finals, and louis will think about emailing him back. the weirdest thing, he'd say, can you see you in new york city? because apparently i can. i made you up that day.

 

louis shakes his head and nearly loses his flower crown but reaches up and steadies it with one hand, shielding his face from the car as it passes him along the street. when he hears the music fade away he gives himself a mental pat on the back. this is growing up, louis tomlinson. standing on top of the bridge and letting the water rush on under you.

 

x.

 

louis keeps having this dream. not every night, but often enough that it freaks him out.

 

he's back in london, which is weird enough; he hardly ever dreams of london or even misses it that much anymore. he's homesick for doncaster and his family, sure, but never london. this dream makes it feel like he never left. it's always foggy, like a late winter morning just before sunrise. the smells of london surround him, and he's running as fast as he can. he's terribly, terribly late for something and if he doesn't hurry, it will be lost forever. louis can feel the sweat dripping from his skin, can feel his breath get more labored, but he won't let himself rest. nothing is more important than getting to... whatever it is he's running towards.

 

he never figures it out, though. right before he reaches it - and it's right there, so close to breaking through the fog and finding what he's spent so long chasing - his body jerks awake, gasping and sweating in the darkness of his room. he can usually fall back asleep after some water and stretching,  but he never goes back twice in one night.

 

once he asks ellie what she thinks it means. she's that type, the type of person to read into coincidences and who believes in fate. she's up late writing when louis stumbles into the kitchen after waking with a start, heart racing too much to even think about going back to sleep. some tea, he figures, maybe a walk and he'll be fine. but ellie is hanging off the couch upside down, head brushing the floor as her eyes are trained on the screen, some b list horror film playing on mute. six months ago it would've scared louis half to death, but now he doesn't even blink as he walks past into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

 

"how goes the writing?" he asks a few minutes later as he plops down beside her on the futon. she hasn't moved.

 

"death inspires me, i think," she says with a deep sigh, rolling up and flipping her legs around to accept the mug he's holding out to her. "death and near death. which, weird, right? nothing makes me feel more alive."

 

"i keep having this dream," and it's a total non sequitur, the kind of thing that makes sense in his head but not once it makes it past his lips, "i'm late and i'm running and i'm reaching for something, but i never get there. it's like i'm running in circles. there's fog and i can't see but i know if i could just figure out what i'm running to, i'll be able to sleep through the night."

 

ellie nods, head tilted a bit as she considers him. she doesn't even question the change in topic. "are you sure you're running towards something?" louis's brow furrows, but she keeps going. "maybe you're not running towards something, maybe you're running away from something else."

 

louis doesn't look at her when he replies quietly, "can it be both at the same time?"

 

"don't see why not," ellie reasons, "it's your dream, isn't it? running around in circles forever? chasing your own tail?"

 

it's quiet for a bit, the light from the telly flickering across their faces as they sit, both lost in their own thoughts.

 

"there was a boy," louis says finally, eyes focused on the screen where a buxom blonde is cautiously making her way down a set of stairs to what louis assumes is her doom, "back in london." he is pretty sure he doesn't want to talk about harry, hasn't wanted to talk about harry with anyone. but the blonde's mouth is open in a silent scream as her head is jerked back by the monster, and it feels wrong somehow, like the silence is suffocating louis as well as the girl on the screen.

 

"he was my best mate, you know? had been for years. everything good about me, i got from him. and then the twat had the audacity to go and fall in love with me."

 

"sounds like a proper fool," ellie muses.

 

louis laughs and runs his fingers through his fringe. "oh, you've no idea. you should've seen it, the way he'd light up a room. and when he looked at you it's like no one in the world existed but you. like he genuinely wanted to hear every stupid thing you had to say. and he wants to be a doctor, for heaven's sake. being perfect wasn't enough, he has to go and be a professional life saver as well?"

 

it feels like a massive hand is slowly loosening its grip on louis's heart. the blood is rushing back to long neglected parts of him and it tingles, just edging closer and closer to pain but it's exhilarating.

 

"he's everything good in this rotten world, and everything bad in it. he's just..." louis trails off at that, suddenly realizing how close he is to saying things out loud that he's never even let himself think. ellie picks up the slack, though.

 

"he's everything."

 

louis nods helplessly, staring intently into space. he's lost in the memory of a time when he and harry were sitting very nearly like this, curled up under a pile of blankets on the sofa because their heater was broken again. the movie playing on the telly had ended and one of them had to venture out of the warmth of the duvets to change the dvd but neither wanted to. rock paper scissors, harry had suggested. best two out of three had turned into best three out of four, tying over and over again. they'd spent hours playing that stupid game, louis content to forget the movie and just be entertained by harry's delighted grin and frown of despair, close enough that when the frown got too deep louis could lick at his dimple until it appeared again.

 

"so what happened?"

 

and what do you say to that? it's been over a year but the bruise that covers every inch of louis's skin is still so tender. still, after all this time.

 

"i'm here, i guess," he says slowly, "i'm here and i'm happy. i'm living my life and he's living his and there's, like, a phantom limb pain that shows up sometimes, but the rest of me is here."

 

ellie doesn't reply, just purses her lips together and nods. louis suddenly feels so, so tired and raw inside. like just talking is more effort than he can put forward. he puts his mug of tea gone cold on the coffee table and stumbles back to his room, taking deep breaths until his hands stop shaking.

 

when he wakes up the next morning and remembers what an idiot he made of himself, he's a bit worried. he nearly corners ellie and tries to explain things, but she doesn't mention a thing. when he opens his mouth to say something she just smiles at him and points to her notebook. even from across the room louis can see that the page is full of frantic, slanted words. she quirks an eyebrow and offers it to him for inspection, but it's the last thing louis can handle in that moment.

 

it's a monday, and the first monday he spends all day waiting for a message that doesn't come. at first he’s sure it’s a fluke, but after two weeks louis knows. knows harry is done waiting.

it hurts more than he thought it would.

 

xi.  

 

louis's schedule has been too packed with summer classes and teaching at the studio downtown for him to find a part time job, and it isn't much of a problem - his scholarships and grants and savings have done a good job of keeping him afloat - but fall term is coming up fast and eleanor and danielle have been raving about their annual end of the summer beach trip and, well, it wouldn't hurt to have a bit of extra spending money. so when louis sees the flyer for a senior art major looking for a model for his final project, louis figures it can't hurt to try. he pockets the paper and determines to call later that night.

 

a few days later he's standing outside an art classroom. he's supposed to meet the senior, alexi, for some sort of interview process. louis figures it's as much a cattle call as it is an actual interview, it's not like he's going to need an impressive resume or brilliant conversational skills. either he'll be what the guy is looking for and he'll get a couple hundred dollars for pouting at a camera for a few hours after classes or he won't. probably not, a guy named alexi has got to be a snobby, probably with a fake french accent, probably looking for some ridiculously thin girl with hollowed out cheeks and too high heels. but whatever, there's no point in stressing until -

 

"hey, are you louis?" somehow the door had opened while louis was having his internal monologue and, wow. louis really should learn to pay attention to his surroundings.

 

"yeah, um. hi?" he tries to smile, but he's having a hard time even catching his breath because alexi is gorgeous. louis has to lift his chin to meet his eyes, and he's smiling wide, teeth a pearly white against his dark skin. louis honest to goodness has to blink a few times because, wow. that's a lot of pretty.

 

alexi doesn't seem bothered by him being suddenly hit with the awkward stick, just sticks his hand out for louis to shake. "nice to meet you, thanks so much for coming. let me grab my coat and we'll head out?"

 

"out?"

 

alexi leaves the door open as he turns and grabs a leather jacket from a hook inside the classroom and, shit. louis is halfway in love already. "yeah, figured we could grab a beer, talk a bit, get to know each other better."

 

"not to be contrary," louis says, fully aware that he's shoving his foot in his mouth; a ridiculously pretty boy just offered to buy him a drink and he's asking questions? clearly eleanor wasn't wrong when she said his dry spell has gone on way too long. "but this isn't exactly like any interview i've ever done before. you haven't even asked to see my pout yet."

 

alexi laughs and, yep, clocking in at exactly three minutes since first laying eyes on the guy and louis is completely smitten. "i'm sure it's very nice, but i don't really care?" he shrugs on his jacket and closes the door behind him, then turns to give louis a quick look up and down. "i'm a painter, i knew within five seconds of seeing you that you're aesthetically pleasing. that's not what i'm looking for. i want to know if you've got, you know, spark. something worth documenting. and," he leans close, lips quirked and whispering like it's a secret, "i have a good feeling about you, louis tomlinson."

 

and with that he turns down the hall, glancing back and making sure louis is following. he does, still a little blindsided, but he can't quite wipe the smile off his face.

 

they end up at a bar a ways away from campus. once louis gets over his initial weird wave of... whatever that was, he and alexi end up getting along marvelously. they find a booth near the back and talk for hours, joking and laughing like rowdy kids. louis is completely enamored, caught up in that sparkle that comes from meeting someone new, peeling back the layers. he learns that alexi is from new orleans, that he got hooked on finger paints as a kid and has been painting ever since, that he's an only child. he has a job at an art gallery set up after graduation, providing that his senior exhibit goes well.

 

"oh, shit, right," louis smacks his head as he remembers. "this is supposed to be an interview, i want you to hire me. mate, i honestly have a pretty hard time being charming when i'm this pissed."

 

alexi throws his head back and lets out that full body laugh that louis already can feel himself becoming addicted to. "charming is the last thing i want from you, honestly. if i could keep you drunk and half falling out of the booth long enough to paint, i think i would."

 

"right pretty picture that would make, me red faced and sticking my finger in your face," louis jokes.

 

alexi's laugh quiets, but the smile doesn't fade. "alcohol has been called the great social lubricant," he muses, "and i totally buy into that. people drop their inhibitions. depressed people become more morose, loud people become more obnoxious, lonely people become downright desperate. i like to drink with people before i work with them because it's so much harder to lie. i want to paint the truth, so i figure we might as well get everything out in the open right up front."

 

he's so utterly open, in a way that sort of takes louis's breath away. everything about him, from his eloquence to his laugh to his stupid leather jacket in the middle of spring speaks of someone who knows what he wants and isn't afraid to take it. he's bold in a way that louis envies. it's almost like he didn't realize that he was closed off until such honesty was right in front of his face.

 

"so," he finally asks, ducking his head, "what do you see in me?"

 

he's not sure why he asks, dead sure that he doesn't want to know the answer.

 

"a riddle," alexi says after a long moment, "a riddle that i'd quite like to figure out."

 

that. that's good. that's something he can live with.

 

"it'll probably take a while," he warns, joking but with a seriousness that he can't quite temper, "i've been working at it myself for twenty two years now and haven't quite gotten it figured out."

 

alexi leans back and crosses his arms against his chest, smiling widely. "guess i'd better start soon then, hadn't i?"

 

louis takes a long sip of his mojito and smiles back. "yeah, guess you had better."

 

xii.

 

in spite of such an electric - "yes, eleanor, electric. fucking sparks flying and everything." - first encounter, things progress pretty slowly between louis and alexi. they're both still in classes, and a lot of the time they are together is spent with alexi behind an easel and louis posing. it's weeks upon weeks of coffee dates with fingertips brushing, sneaking looks across the table. it's the backs of their hands brushing as they walk through the park, and alexi standing close behind him as they examine his paintings, breath raising goosebumps on the back of louis's neck as he points out one technique or another, explaining the process and his style, handling his paintbrushes in a way that seems surprisingly gentle for how large his hands are. it's a whole world unfolding in front of louis's eyes and he loves it.

 

and the whole modeling thing. it's unlike anything louis has ever done before. his whole life has been based in movement, dancing and running, gesturing wildly while he talks loudly.

 

"and that's what i want to capture," alexi insists, "that inner noise that drives you. but you must also learn to be still."

 

so he learns to be still. he'd scoffed at alexi's suggestion of taking up meditative yoga, but after trying it a few times it makes sense. it's the movements he's been doing for years, but in a way he'd never imagined. he doesn't tell alexi he's sitting in on a class, just goes every day for a week and at their next sitting shows up and tries to remember what he learned, breathing deeply in through his nose and out of his mouth. it's not easy; alexi wants him to hold a releve for far longer than he's ever done before, but it helps. mind over matter, become one with the pose, so on and so forth. it's more effort than he's put into anything in a while, retraining his muscles and breathing and mind, but it's so worth it when alexi beams at him.

 

"that was fucking incredible, lou!" he exclaims at the end of the night, "i think this is it, i want to mess with the shading a bit, but i think the first piece is complete."

 

louis lowers his arm and leg, shaking them a bit as the blood rushes back into his veins. it had been painful, but he smiled back at alexi broadly.

 

"is it stupid that i'm sort of proud of myself for that?" he asks, stretching out his stiff muscles.

 

alexi walks up behind him and begins massaging his shoulders with the same gentle strokes he uses on his paint. louis melts into the touch instantly.

 

"not at all," alexi says seriously. "you've mastered something that was difficult before. you faced a challenge, thought it out, and conquered it. that's absolutely something to be proud of."

 

he spins louis around and meets his eyes, the warmth there spreading through louis like a drug. they stay like that for a moment, just looking, and the tender warmth begins to grow, alexi's gaze becoming heated and, for the first time, hesitant.

 

"look, louis, this is going to sound like a line, but i honestly don't usually do this. the last thing i want is for you to feel like i'm taking advantage of you, or putting you in a position where you feel like-"

 

"will you shut up and kiss me already?" louis interrupts, reaching up and winding his hands around the back of alexi's neck and pulling him down. even with that louis has to raise on his toes just a bit and that. that kind of does it for him.

 

apparently it does it for alexi too. he doesn't need any more prompting to spread his fingers wide around louis's waist and pull him in close, kissing him gently.  it takes them a bit to find the right angle, noses bumping and brushing their lips against each other one way and another, and it's light and playful in louis's favorite way. he lets his hands travel down the curve of alexi's neck, mapping out his broad shoulders and the line of his jaw. he can't help smiling into the kiss, then smiling bigger when alexi smiles back.

 

after a few minutes of light nips and kisses, louis pulls back, light headed.

 

"so. that happened."

 

"yep."

 

louis looks down then up through his lashes, scratching at a bit of dried paint he finds on alexi's sleeve and smiling coyly.  "maybe that can happen again?"

 

"absolutely," alexi teases back, dipping in for another quick kiss, "as often as possible."

 

"mmmm," louis agrees, nuzzling into his neck and inhaling, taking in alexi's scent and then nipping him quickly with his sharp teeth. it startles a laugh out of alexi, and louis laughs back simply because he can.

 

this is louis's favorite part of any relationship, but especially a romantic one. the swoop in his stomach when a text shows up on his phone. getting dressed in the morning knowing that the other person is going to see it. having eleanor come over and help him cook dinner, blushing at greg and ellie's catcalls and danielle's knowing looks. it's summertime, he's in new york city, and if he sometimes catches himself singing in the shower, well then. it's no one's business other than his own.

 

they've been officially seeing each other for weeks when alexi takes him to his favorite italian restaurant, a little place in manhattan. they're celebrating; alexi's project is nearly finished. it's a collection of nine paintings, all done in different styles and all of louis. there are polaroids spread across the table that the two of them are pouring over, tucked in close together on the same side of the booth. louis use to roll his eyes when he saw couples doing it, but now, pressed flush up against this beautiful man close enough to reach over and bite at his shoulder whenever he says anything cheeky, it makes sense. he kind of wants to never sit anywhere else.

 

"so the impressionist between the black and white and the rockwell, you think?"

 

louis tilts his head, considering the spread in front of him. "nah, the color schemes don't quite compliment. maybe..." he rearranges a few shots, then shakes his head and moves them back before huffing a breath out. "it's useless. i just can't see anyone voluntarily spending that much time staring at my face, no matter how many variations you've done of it. bet you're wishing you'd chosen a different model right about now, hmmm?"

 

alexi laughs and nudges his nose against louis's cheek. "never, you brat. and they're not all of just your face." he points to one particular snapshot, taken of a painting of louis bent over a ballet barre. it's full on degas, and one of louis's favorites. "you're right, though, something's not quite right." alexi's brow furrows, considering the pictures until he's nearly cross eyed.

 

"hey," louis says, pulling him back up and stacking up the pictures neatly and carefully, "enough. just sleep on it, maybe inspiration will strike while you're passed out."

 

alexi smiles at him a bit gratefully. they both know how deeply he can get sucked into his work if he's not yanked out, and louis has learned to read the warning signs of it and guide him away before he gets in too deep.

 

"not likely. how am i meant to get anywhere without my muse?"

 

it's joking, louis knows it. they haven't done anything beyond some friendly groping, certainly haven't spent the night. even so, when he replies his voice is steady.

 

"i could... i could come with you?"

 

it takes a moment for his words to sink in, alexi processing them mid bite of his lemon chicken. he freezes, completely surprised, and that right there is the confirmation louis needed. the fact that he can still be surprised at the offer after buying louis this big meal at a romantic italian place, that he wasn't expecting it, makes louis all the more sure that it's exactly what he wants.

 

"oh. _oh_. i. are you sure?"

 

louis leans forward and whispers, loving the shiver that runs under his skin as his lips brush against the shell of his ear, "how fast do you think we can get that check?"

 

the answer is pretty damn fast, apparently. the subway ride back to brooklyn seems to take an eternity, though, and louis can feel the blood pounding under his skin, antsy and excited. it's been a while since he's done anything with anyone, since aiden really, but there's no doubt in his mind.

 

when alexi reaches out and presses two fingers against the pulse in his wrist, willing it to slow, louis reminds himself to breathe. there's no rush, they have all night. all night to do the things he wants to do, all night to curl up in alexi's arms and sleep safe and surrounded. that hasn't happened in ages, not since - nope. he has no place here, louis tells himself sternly. he refuses to turn this into anything other than what it is.

 

alexi keeps his fingers loosely wrapped around louis's wrist, though he could probably wrap around it twice with little effort. he guides louis through the streets from the subway station to his apartment, a loft covered in canvases and splattered paint, and not a few empty wine bottles rolling around the floor.

 

"oh, you absolutely fucking would," louis says immediately, lighting up with glee, "you artsy bastard, this is absolutely the kind of place you'd hole up in to paint away your deep sorrow and -"

 

he's cut off by alexi's hands on his shoulders, pushing him up against the closed door behind him and crowding in close.

 

"lou?" he says, voice a bit muffled from where he's buried his face into the crook of louis's shoulder, teeth already setting in to form what louis can already tell will be an impressive lovebite.

 

"yes, darling?" his voice is high, a bit breathier than usual, and if he moans out a bit at the end, he doesn't dwell on it. he's pretty sure he deserves a gold star for being able to form words at all with alexi's pillowy lips on his neck and his hard length pressing insistently into louis's stomach.

 

alexi pulls back from his neck and hovers over him, forearms pressed into the door behind him so louis is completely surrounded and covered, and fuck if louis get just the tiniest bit harder at that, spreading his legs around one of alexi's to rut up against his thigh and try to relieve some of the pressure. it doesn't help when alexi reaches down and drags his nails down louis's chest, catching on his sensitive nipples.

 

"remember how we talked about learning to be still? deep breathing, all that?"

 

louis just moans, getting so worked up he can hardly stand it. he'll deal with the embarrassment later; this thing has been building for months now and he's not too proud to beg.

 

"promise i won't make fun of your flat if you put your fucking hands on me," louis manages, "pinky swear."

 

alexi just grins and grabs a handful of louis' shirt, walking backwards and dragging louis forward as he kisses him, messy and deep. his tongue runs over louis' own tongue and lips and teeth and louis needs a hand on his dick, like, yesterday.

 

they have to untangle to climb the stairs, but as soon as they make it up they attach at the lips again, alexi fumbling with the buttons of louis' shirt and grunting in frustration when he can't get them. louis half considers asking him to just rip it open, he'll deal with finding new buttons later, but this isn't actually a cheesy porno, and he isn't alexi's buxom secretary in a too short skirt and heels. although, now that he thinks about it -

 

"you with me?" alexi asks, clearly amused at how louis seems to be lost in his own thoughts. he'll save the roleplay for later, he decides, messing with his own buttons and nodding at alexi to do the same. once his shirt is off he reaches for his trousers, pushing and pulling until they pool around his ankles and leave him in nothing but his white pants. louis sends a quick thanks to anyone that might be listening that he'd thought to wear his nice briefs.

 

alexi seems to be making the same prayer, if the way he's looking at louis like he wants to eat him alive is any indication. he's shed his own clothes, revealing miles and miles of dark skin that louis just wants to sink his teeth into. alexi's eyes are nearly black, pupils dilated and gaze heavy as a hand squeezing around louis's insides.

 

"wow," alexi says, sounding a bit strangled, and, oh yeah. it may have been a while, but louis hasn't lost it.

 

"very profound," he teases, cocking one hip to the side and crossing his arms just so, knowing how. good it makes his shoulders and biceps look. he's all muscle and curves and he knows it, spends enough time in the dance studio to know exactly how to use his body best and proud of it.

 

"i'm more of a show than tell guy," alexi returns, reaching out and shoving louis gently so he falls backward, spread out wide on the bed. he doesn't waste any time crawling up louis' body, running his hands over the meat of this thighs and up his hips, fingers digging into his sides and then up into his hair as he drags louis up for another kiss that takes louis' breath away.

 

"i've spent months looking at you, memorizing you," he breathes into louis' mouth, "and i intend to take my time."

 

"well, i suppose if you insist, we can certainly give it a try, i so try to be obliging, you -"

 

louis is cut off with another hard kiss, but can't bring himself to be mad about it.

 

 

 

sunlight streams through the windows by the time louis wakes up the next morning, warm on his skin where it's drifting through the blinds and lands on his exposed back. he stretches and grunts, and when he opens his eyes they land on the top of alexi's head peeking over an easel where he's obviously absorbed in what he's sketching.

 

"oi," louis says mildly, voice rough and a little fucked out, "is your art the other woman at this point, or am i?"

 

alexi lets out a chuckle but doesn't get up, just beckons louis over to see. louis grumbles a bit, but yanks the top sheet from where it's tucked in and wraps it around his waist, then crosses the room to wrap himself around alexi from behind and look over his shoulder at the canvas.

 

what he sees takes his breath away. it's him, of course, but not him like anything he's ever seen. he's sprawled out on his stomach, blankets pulled up to barely cover his arse, and louis can see the shading where his back dimples will be. the curve of his back is streaked with moonlight from the windows, and louis can already tell that the lighting will be incredible. his face is only sketched out, but he looks almost not himself. he's there, the eyelashes and nose and lips unmistakable, but he looks so open, vulnerable like he hardly ever is during the day. in the painting he glows, all fluid lines and gentle touches.

 

he's quiet as he examines it, then finally whispers, face impassive, "pastels?"

 

"oil, actually." alexi is watching him closely, as if nervous at how louis will react.

 

louis just nods, then reaches down and takes alexi's hand in his own, lifting it up to press a kiss into his fingertips.

 

"thank you," he says without meeting alexi's eyes. it feels too special, too intimate a moment to sully with anything more lustful than that, and louis is feeling so much that he can't bring himself to say. it's a gift, not only the picture itself, but the chance to see himself like that. there can be no reciprocation, no reply to a gift like that, so louis doesn't try.

 

after a moment he untangles and returns to the bed, taking a moment to face away from alexi and compose himself before turning back and smiling brightly at him.

 

"tea? tea? tea and toast for a starving artist?"

 

alexi laughs and rolls his eyes, but they're tender and fond as he crosses the loft and climbs down the staircase and into the kitchen.

 

"i thought i was the artist," he calls up to louis. it would only be polite to follow him down, maybe give him a lazy blowjob against the kitchen counter, but louis is too blissed out to really care. blowjobs are for later, when he can really focus. now is for lounging on alexi's big bed, soaking up the light from the windows and the soft strains of louis armstrong drifting up from the speakers downstairs where alexi is putting the kettle on.

 

what a wonderful world, indeed.

 

xiii.

 

louis jerks awake to his phone ringing. alexi lets out a groan and slaps out a hand that lands on low on louis’s back, reaching out to touch but not push.

 

“‘lo?” louis’s voice is low and scratchy, throat still a bit tender from an excessive amount of tequila and, if his hazy memory is correct, defending his title as reigning karaoke king with one beyonce song after another.

 

“louis, my good man!”

 

it takes a moment to place the voice, but once he does louis lights up like a christmas tree. “ed!” he exclaims, sitting up straight. alexi groans again in protest and curls himself around louis, leaning in to nip at his waistline. louis shoves his head away with a laugh and then turns his attention back to the phone. “mate, it’s been a while, how’s tricks?”

 

“you know, same old. it’s a long way to the top if -”

 

“yeah, yeah, if you wanna rock and roll. i know.” louis cuts him off with a grin. “you in town?”

 

ed usually rings up once every few months. he sweeps in for a couple of shows, maybe a session or two in a recording studio, then sweeps back out. but he never fails to call louis up. even if they’re both busy and can’t get together, he always lets him know that he’s there and thinking of him.

 

“yeah, in town for the week. actually had a favor to ask, which i know is pretty shit of me, but. my cousin, the one i usually stay with in queens, she’s got a sick kid and i really can’t afford to -”

 

“don’t think twice, mate, my couch is all yours,” louis says warmly. it isn’t even a question, greg and ellie have both met and loved ed. it’s pretty hard not to, honestly. especially after they’d figured out that danielle knew him from sixth form, of all places. louis’ world is far smaller than anyone gave it credit for.

 

ed laughs in relief. “i figured. you’re good people, louis tomlinson.”

 

“right back atcha, ed sheeran. see you later this afternoon?”

 

they set up a time and place to meet, and by the time they hang up louis is buzzing with energy. he rolls over and lifts himself up into alexi’s lap, knocking the air out of him.

 

“i’m at least ninety percent sure you’ve never been that excited to hear from me,” alexi says seriously, trying to keep a straight face, “should i be worried?”

 

louis rolls his eyes but is too excited to play along. he rolls his hips a bit, earning a sharp intake of breath from alexi who is trapped below him. “no, you prat, ed’s in town!” when alexi wrinkles his nose like louis wants nothing more than to lean down and lick it, so he does. which leads to peppering kisses and nips all along the long line of alexi’s throat and jawline as he natters on about ed.

 

“he’s brilliant,” louis manages between kisses, “a musician and he’s from back home and doesn’t know too many people here, so of course he can stay with us. his songs are gorgeous, you'll love them, and he says ridiculous things like, you're good people, louis tomlinson."

 

he pulls up and smiles a bit at that, and when alexi places a finger under his chin to lift his head, louis meets his gaze without hesitation. it's a testament to how far he's come, he thinks, that he can sit here wide eyed and vulnerable in front of this man and tell him, in almost so many words, how much a silly compliment like that means to him.

 

"you are good people, louis tomlinson," alexi says seriously. louis wants to protest that it doesn't actually count as a compliment if it sounds like he'd been fishing for it, but instead he just smiles down, pleased. they stay like that for a moment, just enjoying the warmth of each other's company, until alexi hooks his legs around louis' and flips them over without warning, startling a laugh out of him.

 

"c'mon, i think i've got enough time for a morning blowjob before we meet up with your popstar, hmmm?"

 

 

 

"ah, the prodigal son has returned!" ellie calls as louis bursts through the door.

 

greg pokes his head out from the hallway and scrunched his nose up when he sees louis. "who are you again? you look vaguely like the little critter who used to live in our second bedroom, but it can't be, i haven't seen that tomlinson menace in..." he scratches chin as he wanders into the kitchen and bends himself nearly in half to rest his chin on ellie's shoulder. "how long has it been, ellie?"

 

"at least half a decade," she says solemnly, not missing a beat.

 

"fuck off," louis says cheerfully, or i won't give you your presents."

 

"pretty sure prostitution is illegal, lou," alexi says as he walks through the door, hauling in one of ed's bags.

 

the change in the room is instantaneous, and one of the best things louis has ever seen. ellie's eye light up and she squeals, just as greg groans and gets his arms around her middle and throws her up over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

 

"put me down, you brute!" ellie shrieks as she pounds her fists against greg's back, "my prince charming has come to carry me away to a castle in the sky!"

 

"oi," louis says mildly as he carries ed's bags the rest of the way to hide them next to the futon. ellie's gargantuan crush on alexi is nothing new, and once they'd gotten past an intensely awkward and earnest conversation wherein alexi assured greg that his interest was firmly settled in the male persuasion, and that he never wanted to do anything that could be misconstrued as trying to come between greg and ellie, to which greg had responded, "mate, you're a stumbling block just by existing. the best thing you could do for mine and ellie's relationship is drag me to the gym - kicking and screaming, mind you - and teach me how to get biceps like that."

 

but now it's a source of amusement for everyone involved.

 

"ellie, babe, not in front of the boyfriends, yeah?" alexi stage whispers to her. she giggles and wriggles around a bit until greg lets her down. she pushes at his shoulders until he's facing away from them and then runs and throws herself at alexi. he catches her mid jump - louis thanks heaven on a regular basis for those arms and the incredible things they can do - and swings her around until -

 

"ed!" ellie slips from alexi's arms and throws herself at ed, who's standing in the doorway, grinning hugely. alexi makes a face at louis, as if offended by the abandonment, and louis smirks and shrugs his shoulders.

 

ed and ellie have been as thick as thieves ever since louis brought him home the first time. they've even played a few gigs together, whenever they are both free. their musical styles are different, but both are incredible songwriters and have the highest respect for each other artistically.

 

louis tucks himself under alexi's arm as ed and ellie plop themselves on the couch and talk a million miles a minute about the shows ed has lined up for the week, and ellie's laugh rings through the flat as ed tells one quiet, self deprecating story after another.

 

it hits him, sometimes, how weird it is that this is his life. a flat in new york city with a musician and her boyfriend, next door to two girls from back home, a... well, whatever alexi is to him. it didn't slip louis' notice, how easily alexi had called him his boyfriend. he doesn't mind, but he can't help holding himself back, just a bit. it's june, and it's amazing to have someone like alexi in his life. but he also knows that, come august, alexi will be on a plane to california to work at an art gallery, like he's been planning for months. it's a thing, of course they know it's coming. but it still feels right, having him here. louis will keep him for as long as he can.

 

ed wrangles ellie to be the opening act for his show on saturday night, so louis and his friends make a night of it. danielle and eleanor are delighted to see ed again, of course, and greg charms his way out of a shift at work. alexi is planning on meeting them at the venue, so it's just louis, greg, and the girls who pile into greg's old pick up truck on the way into the city.

 

it's a large coffee shop-cum-small concert venue that holds regular shows, and by the time they get there it's pretty packed. eleanor did a great job at spreading the word down through her seemingly endless contacts. they slip in just in time, and ellie is just climbing on stage when they push their way towards the front. alexi waves them over to a spot close and to the right of the stage. louis leans up on his tiptoes and brushes a kiss on his cheek before turning to get a good look at ellie in the spotlight.

 

louis has seen ellie in just about every way possible. he's seen her mussed from sleep, dressed to the nines. he's seen her crying over a failed demo and gloating over winning a round of fifa, and even on one embarrassing occasion he'd walked in on her with her mouth around greg's dick. but ellie is never quite as beautiful as she is on stage.

she looks amazing. blonde hair tumbling down her shoulders and a big smile on her face, somehow pulling off what looks like a bra, hot pants and combat boots without looking stupid. but when she gets onstage and all eyes naturally gravitate towards her, it's like she transforms. where she's usually loud and vivacious she becomes calm, commanding the attention of the room without much of an effort at all. she doesn't even bother introducing herself at first, just starts in with a gorgeous, soft, elton john cover. it's gentle enough that people go quiet to listen, and aren't ready when she finishes that and transitions straight into a fierce electronic dance number. the music is flowing from speakers hooked up to a laptop that louis recognizes well; ellie creates all her own beats. louis never fails to be impressed by her sheer talent for getting people on their feet.

 

a few songs in and it's the same as always; the crowd is spattered with a few people who sing along and know all the words, but even those who don't are dancing anyway. louis is no exception; he and danielle are in the middle of the throng, grinding and laughing and cheering for ellie. alexi stands at the side of the room shaking his head and grinning; for all he's a great artist, he's never been much use on the dance floor. louis can deal with that.

 

ellie starts up a slow, tender song and louis suddenly feels the need to be wrapped up in alexi's warmth, so he spins danielle and nudges her toward eleanor and starts to push his way through the crowd. he's sidetracked, however, when he runs into a very tall, very solid unmoving figure. louis is about to start yelling when he looks up and sees who it is.

 

"greg!" louis says. he headbutts greg's shoulder affectionately and is about to move around him, but something about the look on greg's face stops him cold.

 

louis reaches out tentatively and touches greg's neck as he prompts him again. "mate?"

 

greg glances down and blinks a few times, as if trying to fully register who is in front of him. "oh, louis, hey." his voice is a bit strained, and doesn't do much to convince louis that everything is alright.

 

"talk to me," louis says, voice leaving no room for discussion.

 

greg opens his mouth, as if to protest, but then just smiles at louis a bit sadly and turns back to his girlfriend on the stage. "she's magnificent, isn't she?"

 

"of course." and she is. all the hours she's spent agonizing over the light setup were clearly worth it; she got a soft backlight going that silhouettes her perfectly. it nearly seems like her voice is detached, not coming from her at all.

 

"thing is," greg says after a moment, "seeing her like this, it just reminds me. how she's not really mine at all."

 

louis' eyebrows furrow, and he goes to argue but greg cuts him off when he sees his face. "no, not like that. i know she loves me, as much as she is capable of loving any one person. and she's happy, with me. but she doesn't..." he huffs out a frustrated breath, like the words are painful to get out. "she doesn't belong to me. she never could, even if she wanted to. this is where she belongs. even if she's never, like, selling out massive arenas or whatever, she needs the love of everyone here. music, performing, this is her high. it's not me."

 

that rolls around louis' mind for a bit, letting it settle on his tongue before he speaks again. "is she yours?"

 

greg ducks his head a little, chuckling. "she's probably the love of my life, lou. me and every other person in this room."

 

his blatant honesty takes louis' breath away, just a bit. greg isn't normally serious like this, tends to be all goof and physical comedy, but seeing the way he's looking at ellie now, like it might hurt a bit to breathe air that she hasn't breathed first, louis wonders how he ever missed it.

 

he's desperate to give greg something, some piece of comfort or reassurance, some sort of thanks for showing louis a part of him that he's pretty sure most people don't. but before he can find the words, ellie's song is finished and she's talking again, pumping up the crowd for ed. greg whistles and claps, and slips back into being the adorable manchild louis had always known. louis backs away, still a bit unsure, but when greg winks at him he knows that he'll be fine. it's not a massive revelation to greg, nothing has changed for him. he's always known that he has a piece of ellie that no one else ever will, but that the world has a piece of her that he can never touch.

 

louis had meant to find alexi, but suddenly he needs fresh air more than anything. he slips through the crowd and out the back door, stumbling a bit into the parking lot as he takes a deep breath, inhaling the crisp night air.

 

"not ducking out before my set, i hope," and, shit, louis jumps out of his skin at the sound of ed'd voice.

 

"nah, just." he waves his hand around vaguely, trying to work out if it would be physically possible for him to look like more of an idiot. "air."

 

ed laughs, but smiles that knowing little smirk of his. "oxygen, mate. 's a beautiful thing."

 

louis rolls his eyes, but meanders over to lean with ed against the brick wall outside the venue. "nervous?"

 

"nah," ed shakes his head quickly, but his fingers drum incessantly against the bricks by his hip, so louis isn't quite sure if he believes him.

 

"do you believe in, like, fate?" louis blurts out without meaning to. "fate and just one perfect match for everyone and star crossed lovers and that?"

 

ed doesn't answer right away, but his head is tilted like he's seriously considering it, so louis doesn't bother taking it back.

 

"i think," ed says after a long moment, "that the world is a lot smaller than we think it is."

 

louis waits quietly, expecting... he doesn't even know, something more profound from one of the most eloquent songwriters he knows. but ed seems content to leave it at that, stands and stretches enough that his shirts rides up his stomach and hitched up around his arms.

 

"new ink?" louis says, tilting his head to get. better look at the mish mash of tattoos littering ed's arms.

 

it must be the right thing to say, because ed lights up as he twists to give louis a better view. "yeah, got this mate back home, we got proper wasted a few weeks back and thought it would be sick to get matching ink."

 

louis has to squint to make it out, but once he does he bursts out laughing. "pingu? honestly? could you be any more of a twelve year old boy?"

 

ed grins and pats it like it's his firstborn. "absolutely, pingu."

 

louis is delighted and leans over to rub at it a bit. "reminds me of someone," he says absently, smile not leaving his face.

 

they make it back in just in time for ellie's last song, and when ed is on stage he dedicates. song to louis, earning him a laugh from the little knot of friends standing front and center.

 

vx.

 

the suffocating crush of new york city traffic drives nearly everyone to madness, and louis is no exception. he's out of his element enough already, driving on the wrong side of the road, overwhelming billboards, the sun setting at the perfect angle to hit him right in the eyes. the catcalls and raised voices hitting him from every angle, the smells from the streets and a hundred different songs blaring from the different cars. there are 8.3 million people living in new york city.

 

well, 8.3 million minus one.

 

louis blows out a harsh breath and switches lanes, muttering under his breath. he can already see the scene waiting for him back at the flat; greg fluttering around looking concerned while ellie smacks the back of his head and tries to distract louis with some movie with lots of explosions and tits, but secretly sneaking the same worried looks when she thinks louis isn't looking. later eleanor and danielle will come over with cupcakes or a fucking fruit basket, and. just.

 

"fuck it," he says to no one, slaps his blinker on and takes the next exit. he’s already skipping his dance workshop so what’s a few more hours of losing himself in the city?

 

louis has no idea where he is after a few random turns, finds he's quite lost in some queens suburban neighborhood. the panic doesn't set in, though; he's a nameless face, someone for the locals to smile and wave at, a new car for the children to take note of and then ignore. it makes him miss doncaster in a way he hasn't in a long time, since london at least. he longs for his mother's home cooked meals; for the near frantic pitch of his sisters' constant wailings and screeches; the slam of the back door behind stan as his childhood friend lets himself in unannounced and uninvited, but welcome nonetheless. he drives past an abandoned old playground that looks identical to the one down the road from his mum's house and doesn't think before pulling to the side of the road and ambling over to a swing. it's childish, running away from his concerned friends and pumping his legs to lift himself from the ground, but louis is nothing if not good at escapism.

 

it's impossible to go back, louis knows. his spirit has grown so much that he wouldn't fit in the tiny town, the same way his bones have stretched to the point that he wouldn't fit in his small twin sized bed. it hasn't felt like home in years, not since a certain curly haired mess of a boy had wandered into his uni room and offered up his own chest for louis' heart to call home. louis had taken it selfishly, not thinking twice about the repercussions.

 

louis probably still doesn't quite know what he'd done that first day, the ways he's been molded by that one offer of an empty bed to a boy who'd been lost. he doesn't know much of anything about harry's life anymore. he'd stopped writing months ago. he can't blame him; if anything he's surprised that harry kept it up for as long as he did.

 

for the first time, as louis is flying through the air, he lets himself feel the overwhelming desire to write back to harry. he thinks harry would understand why he's sitting here at some forsaken old playground only hours after leaving his boyfriend - ex boyfriend, louis reminds himself - at the airport, kissing his cheek for the last time. he wonders what harry did after dropping him off, if he was content to go back to their flat, or if he wandered around london as he was wont to do.

 

 _dear harry,_ he can see it in his head. _dear harry, i wasn't in love with him._

 

and it's true. alexi was amazing, warm and tender and brilliant and everything louis needed. it was a love affair with an expiration date but they didn't mind. it was good fun, and probably more than a little bit healing for louis, but it wasn't love. but he can't say that, can he? yes, i'm sad he's gone and i'll miss his musk and i am a better person for having had him in my life but i don't need haagen das and titanic. it feels like it would cheapen it somehow, cheapen the morning spent lounging in alexi's bed and the late night walks around brooklyn, holding hands and people watching. like it would invalidate the way louis' stomach had swooped when alexi had pressed a kiss to his forehead outside of airport security and told him to go find your joy, whatever that meant.

 

maybe it's this, louis thinks as he swings higher. he reaches the point where he's above the main pole and the chains go slack, leaving him suspended in the air for a long moment. louis remembers the first time he's reached that nirvana as a kid; it had frightened him so much he'd let go and gone flying through the air. it had ended badly, a rushed trip to A&E, weeks in a cast, a stern lecture from his mother. the lecture had been unnecessary, because louis wouldn't step near a playground for years after, the fear of that pain refusing to release its grip on his heart.

 

louis lets his feet drag a bit on the next pass, scraping up the toes of his shoes. not enough to stop, just slowing down a bit. a thought hits him and he reaches in his pocket for his phone, tightening his grip on the chain with the other. he pumps his legs a bit harder to get back up and, once he reaches the pinnacle, he takes a picture.

 

 _dear harry,_ the letter would go, _i wasn't in love with him. he wasn't you._

 

it's sort of perfect, really. the sunlight through the trees, a beautiful indian summer haze muting the colors of the leaves and the shades of the sunset just edging in on the frame. louis snaps one, two, three shots on his way down, and then he's on the ground. it's low enough that he can jump easily without hurting himself; the benefits of being a foot taller and a good hundred pounds heavier than his ten year old self.

 

once he's solid on the ground, he checks the picture. it makes him feel light in a way that it shouldn't, like he's left some part of himself up in the air. he wishes he could tell someone somehow what it means. alexi would get it, would take look and know. and maybe harry would. even if he didn't understand, louis knows, he'd try his best to make louis happy. to give louis whatever he wanted.

 

_dear harry, i'm not ready to come back to you but i wish you were here._

 

it's probably a good thing, in that moment, that louis doesn't have harry's number. he'd dial it just to hear harry answer, not say a word but just have him there to share this moment with.

 

instead, louis opens up his instagram app. he doesn't bother putting on a filter or tagging anything cheesy. this isn't about anything other than him reaching out and giving something to someone who deserves it. he knows harry follows him, has known since lottie brought it up a few months back. harry's own collections are a perfect representation of him: too many bananas; artsy shots of his ray bans on the sand; the occasional picture of him with his family or a small child; and endless penis jokes.

 

he contemplates over the caption for ages, going back and forth until he remembers that last night with harry, the album playing softly in the background as their hips and soapy hands brushed as they cleaned up after the party. subtle, louis thinks as he types up the line 'knowing somehow that my shadow days are over now' and hits post. it's enough, he decides. it's enough.

 

he ambles back to the car and lets himself in, cranking the radio high and rolling the windows down. he's got a long road ahead of him, he knows, but suddenly it doesn't seem all that scary. he can't see the twists and bends, but he's finally realized that he knows where it ends.


	3. part iii

 

_if our hearts are never broken, then there’s no joy in the mending. there’s so much this hurt can teach us both. there’s distance and there’s silence, your words have never left me. they’re the prayer that I say every day. - snow patrol, new york_

 

i.

new york is, above all else, an expressive city. all four season come and go, leaves falling, then the snow, then the cherry blossoms. it’s a steady, pulsing beat that thrums through the city from north to south, east to west. it’s helpful sometimes, when you want to fall to your knees and beg for time to stop, or a chance to catch your breath, the city carries you forward. it’s suffocating and uplifting and driving and it refuses to leave anyone behind. it stretches you and pulls you and envelops you until your heartbeat matches that of the city. the sweltering summers with ice cream trucks and busted air conditioning units. the freezing winters with layers and layers of thick quilts and scarves and hats. spring and fall and then winter again, and they’re not lying when they say it’s the greatest city on earth. for louis, it becomes home. he almost can’t remember london’s bustle, or even doncaster’s small town feel. new york has sunk into his bones, it’s the grit beneath his nails and the breeze ruffling his fringe. he fits here, and as the weeks and months and pass, he feels new york sharpening his edges and pushing and prodding him into growing up. before he realizes it, he’s celebrating his fifth year here.

 

he doesn’t even realize it until he’s shaving that morning and catches a good glimpse at himself in the mirror. suddenly he’s glued to his reflection, trying to recognize the twenty one year old kid he had been when he first set foot in this apartment. his hair is shorter, his shoulders broader, he’s lost a bit of that baby fat that clung to his cheeks. he’s lost the six pack he’d had in uni, though that’s due to his 3 am thai takeaway more than his lack of physical activity. he’s older and softer and sharper all at once, stripes and sweats replaced by collared shirts and jeans. he’s got a few tattoos scattered across his arms and chest, permanent marks of nights and people he’s not likely to forget anyway.

 

his home has changed just as much as he had; eleanor is singing rather off key in the shower next to him instead of greg or ellie - sometimes both together, but that pain is still a bit too fresh to remember - and strangers live next door. once danielle had left for london and, in a plot twist that surprised no one, liam, it hadn’t made sense for eleanor to live by herself, and shortly after greg and ellie had decided to get their own place, leaving the room open for her. the picture collage stayed put on the wall, but now it’s littered with magazine pictures and articles eleanor has written as well as ellie’s gigs and tour posters, programs from louis’ senior recital, and pictures of all of them at graduation.

 

the city has changed him, and when he’s at his most sentimental, louis likes to think that he’s changed it right back, at least his little corner of it. it’s in his bones, but there’s a red string tattooed around his ankle and it’s pull is getting stronger. it won’t be long now, he can tell. that’s the thought that makes him smile at the mirror. new york is his home, but he has another home waiting for him somewhere in england. he can change all he wants, that will always stay the same. and he’ll be going back to that home soon.

 

ii.

 

soon turns out to be a few weeks later, on a lazy sunday as louis is making lunch and skyping with his family. eleanor had put him in charge of chopping vegetables for kebabs and he's really only half invested in what his mother's saying. he almost misses it when lottie pops up on the screen.

 

"hiya, boo bear."

 

"hiya, charlotte," he snarks back, "what kind of havoc are you wrecking, then?"

 

lottie rolls her eyes, but she's gnawing at her lip in a way that makes louis more than a little nervous. he knows that look. that look means lottie is tired and stressed and upset about something. he glances back at the counter and, yeah. the vegetables can wait. he picks up the laptop and carries it into his bedroom, flops down on his bed and tucks his hands under his chin.

 

"spill, little love, what's on your mind?" he's not even surprised to found that she's done the same and he's looking at her head floating against a background of pink and white stripes. for all that lottie professes to not be able to stand him, they’re more alike than either of them are willing to admit.

 

she’s still chewing her lip to bits as she contemplates what to say, and louis just sits patiently and gives her time. “i’m heading to uni this autumn,” she starts.

 

“i know, lottie, and i’m so proud of you. you know that, right?” louis says, trying to be as encouraging as he can. she rolls her eyes and nods, but it seems to be the right thing to say because she keeps going.

 

“it’s just, i can’t decide, you know? i don’t know where i want to go, or what i want to do. there’s just a lot of pressure, you know?”

 

louis chuckles gently and shakes his fringe out of his face; does he ever know. “yeah, of course. these are really  big decisions you’re going to be making, it’s only natural that you’d be overwhelmed. i’d be worried if you weren’t worried, to be honest. but,” he says clapping his hands and sitting up, running to his desk and grabbing a notebook before settling back on his bed, “the best way to approach this is to make a list. if nothing else, it’ll help you sort out your thoughts.”

 

lottie seems cheered at that. “so a pros and cons list? like in school?”

 

“exactly,” louis says, beaming back at her, “so let’s start this. what are your options?”

 

“london, manchester, maybe birmingham? leeds would be nice too, and also nottingham, and -”

 

“whoa, whoa,” louis stops her, “top two. let’s not get crazy. you must have some sort of favorites.”

 

“okay, yeah. probably london and manchester i guess. you said your roommate used to go to manchester, right? so she probably knows a lot about it.”

 

louis nods and writes them at the top of the graph. “yeah, eleanor loved manchester. good social scene, and she’d probably know of places to live.”

 

“right,” lottie nods, “and a few of the girls from school are going there as well, so that’s a point for manchester.”

 

“do you even know anyone in london?” louis asks. “obviously i know a few people still, danielle and liam, but it’s still pretty big, might be hard to get around -”

 

“well, harry’s there,” lottie says, shaking her head like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “he could probably show me around, right?”

 

louis suddenly is very engrossed in the doodles at the bottom of the page. he wishes he could play it off better, wishes he could ask _harry who?_ “harry being there doesn’t actually make it smaller, lottie.”

 

“it kind of does, though.”

 

and the thing is, louis can’t argue with that. he remembers that feeling himself, the feeling that if harry was someplace no matter how dark and scary, it was just an adventure. and somehow, it's comforting. he knows without a doubt that no matter what has happened between him and harry, harry loves lottie like his own sister. he's going to take care of her as well as louis would himself. even after all this time, he trusts harry implicitly.

 

"but i was wondering, like... maybe you could come visit? help me settle in? not for long, just to figure things out." and, right, lottie is still talking. the world has gone a little bit hazy round the edges.

 

"actually," louis said faintly, "i'm. um. i'm moving back to london."

 

" _what?_ " lottie shrieks. "since when?"

 

"about ten seconds ago, i think. or maybe years. maybe since i left."

 

he gets up slowly and starts puttering around, grabbing his wallet and cell phone, still feeling dizzy. london. lottie. _harry._  he's got to get to harry, it's time. it's maybe been time. lottie is still talking on his computer screen but he can't focus on her now. he's got to get on a flight right away.

 

"i have to go, lottie, i'll speak to you soon," he cuts her off without listening, slamming his laptop shut and shoving it in the duffle he's pulled out from under his bed.

 

"louis, honestly, what the hell?" eleanor's voice finally cuts through the fog in his brain, "how many times have we been over this? you can't leave water boiling on the stove and walk away!"

 

louis sprints down the hall and slides into the kitchen on his socks, and takes a moment to appreciate the execution of the risky business slide that he spent most of his childhood perfecting. he and eleanor blink at each other for a minute, and her face changes from irritated to concerned after a minute.

 

"... lou?"

 

"i'm going to london," he tells her.

 

eleanor still looks at him like he might be crazy, and louis can't blame her. he hasn't gone back once in the five years they've known each other, never even hinted at wanting to. "right this minute?" her voice is a little thinner than normal, a bit higher.

 

"yeah," louis says after a moment, "right this minute."

 

he turns and goes back into his room, and keeps throwing things into the bag without much thought. eleanor follows him and leans against the doorframe, face torn between amusement and concern.

 

"it's him, isn't it? it's harry. you're going back for harry."

 

louis has never explicitly told eleanor about harry, but he also isn't surprised that she knows. danielle must've mentioned him, now that she lives with liam and sees him all the time. and louis hasn't ever dated anyone seriously, always holding back a bit. with how much love he’s always had to share, it wouldn’t be hard to suss out that there’s something, someone, he’s waiting for.

 

"yeah, it is. it's," he shrugs at her helplessly, "it's time, el."

 

"but why?" she asks, moving over to sit on his bed and look up at him, "why now, lou, it's been five _years_. what changed?"

 

louis wants to snap at her that it doesn't matter, he just needs to go, but she's his best friend, and she's also not wrong.

 

"logistically, it makes sense. i'm just working month to month for the studio now, they could replace me without much trouble. and dani is over there already, she could help me find a job easily enough. i have enough saved to pay through the end of our lease here, so if you want to move or find a new roommate, you'll be fine." he swallows and takes a deep breath before continuing. "not so logistically... i miss him, el. i've missed him every day. i'm tired of feeling this empty part of me, especially when i know exactly where that part is."

 

eleanor purses her lips and looks at him for a long minute. louis can't help but hold his breath.

 

finally she jumps to her feet. "well, let's go get you your man."

 

iii.

 

louis intentionally doesn't give himself a chance to catch his breath, because he's sure as soon as he does he's going to realize he's lost his damn mind. he grabs the first flight to heathrow, wincing at the jacked up price, but he _really_ doesn't have the time to think about that. eleanor drives him to the airport and sends him off with a kiss and all sort of demands for updates on his epic love story as soon as possible. getting through immigration and security feels like it takes ages; everything is heightened with this constant thrum of _harryharryharry_ under his skin. he can't get through fast enough.

 

even being on the flight has him fidgeting, sleeping restlessly and even striking up a conversation with the lovely old lady sitting next to him. that ate up a few hours all on its own; by the time the air hostesses bring around the cheese and crackers he knows more about brenda's grandchildren than he does about his own sisters.

 

"alright, louis, your turn," brenda says after a long sip of her soda, "tell me your story."

 

the wheels in his head turn quickly, trying to figure out where to even start. she sees his hesitation, and reaches out to pat his hand. "let's try this one - what's waiting for you in london? home, business, or pleasure?"

 

"all three?" he guesses. "well, i hope at least." this leads to him spilling everything, starting with that first concert before they even met, through uni and up until a few hours earlier.

 

"and i guess i just realized that, like, life is short? and i needed to grow up and see the world in order to realize that the only thing i want to see anymore is him." louis swallows and ducks his head, suddenly self conscious. "does that sound ridiculous? maybe i won't use that as my opening line."

 

brenda is completely turned to him, entranced as the story unfolded. "you'd damn well better open with that, you brat. you've made this boy wait a lifetime, the least he deserves is a grand romantic gesture!"

 

louis laughs at that, loud enough to get shushed by the other passengers. brenda's studying him with a fond look in her eyes, and she gazes long enough for him to start to fidget again.

 

"what?" he finally asks.

 

she just smiles a bit bigger before reaching out and patting his hand. "it's just nice, is all. after a messy divorce, watching my daughters get their hearts broken, losing my parents, just getting caught up in the pain of life, i guess, it's nice to remember that good things do happen. there's heartache, louis, don't ever doubt that. but there's also joy and love and fit young men flying across the ocean to follow their heart. makes me feel young again, i suppose."

 

louis can't help himself, he leans over and hugs her close. when he pulls back and smiled at her, he's struck by how beautiful she really is. he hadn't noticed, before.

 

by the time they reach heathrow it's nearly nine in the morning. louis and brenda walk through customs together. when they reach the arrivals gate the smile on her face gives louis a lump in his throat; her family is all there to greet her. a giant WELCOME NANA banner clutched by the grandchildren he now knows by name, there in the flesh. her story comes to life in a way he never would've imagined. it just drives home the point that he's here, he's in london. harry is here, somewhere in the crowds, brushing shoulders with real people. maybe brushing shoulders with louis.

 

he tries to slip away with a wave, but brenda isn't having any of it. she drags him over to meet her entire family, introducing him and telling her family a condensed version of what brought them together on the plane, and louis blushes as he's embraced by an entire clan of redheaded children and middle aged women. there's an overwhelming number of girls and it makes him feel right at home and ache for his own family. they insist on driving him to his old flat, and though he protests over and over again, brenda just tweaks his cheek to shut him up.

 

"don't deny me the chance to be a part of this epic love story, selfish boy. let me do my part." and really, he can't argue with that.

 

the drive back home feels like a twilight zone reversal of the drive he took to the airport all those years ago. it's been five years and two months, but london feels the same. different advertisements, some shinier cars, but the buskers are on street corners and the people are bustling around, still content to enjoy the warm august sun for as long as it's around.

 

he gives them directions effortlessly, and they drop him off in front of his building with luck and love and waves and an exchange of emails and promises to write. louis shakes his head as he watches the oversized van drive away, wondering how he manages to find these incredible people to fill his life.

 

there's a street vendor selling flowers at the end of the block, and on impulse he runs down and picks out a bouquet of daffodils. there was a documentary on the meanings on flowers on a few weeks ago and he can't think of a single thing better to give harry than a flower that represents rebirth, a fresh start.

 

the keypad code to get into the building hasn't changed over the years, so louis gets in without any trouble. he takes the stairs up to the fourth floor; there's no way he'd be able to keep from being sick if he was standing still for that long in the lift. his heart is in his throat as it is, knowing every step is taking him that much closer. harry is three floors away. two floors. down the hallway.

 

he comes to a stop in front of the doorway he knows so well. there are a million things he wants to say, and trying to settle on one opening line feels impossible. he's half tempted to drop to his knee and just propose on the spot; it's _harry_. luckily, reason wins out in the end and he figures that when he sees harry, he'll know. it'll just flow, he's sure of it.

 

he knocks, then takes a step back. no point in crowding the door just yet.

 

footsteps coming to the door. the lock turning. louis' last fear is calmed; it only just occurs to him that harry might not actually be home at half nine on a monday morning, but there he is. on the other side of the door.

finally.

 

"louis? louis!"

 

"... danielle?" louis asks weakly to the mass of curly hair and tiny limbs wrapped around his neck. the adrenaline is pumping through his veins too quickly, he can't breathe properly.

 

danielle jumps down and cups louis' face in her hands.

 

"you absolute monster, what are you doing here? does liam know? he's going to die when he sees you, he's missed you terribly you know - liam, come, quick!"

 

his ears are pounding, his legs feel a bit shaky. it's only now that he notices the doormat, the smell of potpourri coming from the apartment. tiny changes that all add up to one thing - harry isn't here.

 

"dani? what's going - _louis!_ "

 

liam looks different as well; he's bulked up nicely and his curls have all been shorn off in favor of a close cropped buzz cut. he looks older, better.

 

"surprise?" louis manages around the lump in his throat. liam is a man, when did that happen?

 

without another moment's hesitation liam wraps his arms around louis, pulling him in close. louis buries his head in liam's neck and hugs him back. his smell, at least, that hasn't changed.

 

"louis, this is the best surprise. thank you so much, you've no idea how much this means to me." now liam's choking up and fuck, louis never stood a chance. his eyes well up as he looks over louis' shoulder and sees danielle wiping away a tear as well. it suddenly hits him hard that it wasn't just harry he's left behind all these years.

 

"and just in time for the party!"

 

and, what? oh, right. end of august. liam's birthday. liam thinks louis came to surprise him for his birthday. yeah, he can roll with that.

 

his friends pull him in, fussing over his new haircut and the new bags under his eyes, and he lets himself be enveloped in the warmth of their love. they catch up on each others lives, and louis can’t help but be a little smug at how in love they are. he totally called that.

 

he takes a shower in harry’s old shower, now the guest bathroom. harry’s bed had stayed here but he hasn’t asked where harry is now, not wanting to jinx it. when he’s out and fixing his hair danielle comes and sits on the toilet next to him, just looking and smiling.

 

“he’ll be at the party,” she says suddenly, voice low enough that liam won’t hear but with enough weight behind the words that she knows louis knows who she means.

 

he blushes and closes his eyes, but doesn’t bother trying to deny it. “i’ve waited this long to see him, i can wait a little longer. i’m just happy to be with you two.”

 

danielle smiles brilliantly at him, and louis is pleased to realize that it isn’t even a lie. he’s missed them, he’s missed everyone here. he’s already missing parts of new york, and needs to call eleanor, but this is home. this flat, these streets and these people, it’s where he belongs. and it won’t be long now.

 

iv.

 

the taxi ride to the club is relatively calm, and louis almost wishes he could give himself a round of applause for not losing his shit in that amount of time. they pull up outside and louis and danielle brush each other off, she playing with his quiff and him fussing with the straps of her dress. it's a silly habit they used to have before going on stage together and it grounds louis more than he thought possible.

 

he can't help raising an eyebrow when he sees where liam's party is; he's turning twenty five, louis had assumed he'd outgrown nightclubs. but seeing how danielle lights up when she walks through the door, and how liam lights up when danielle lights up, louis can't suppress a smile. _that_ makes sense to him.

 

his skin feels like it's on fire as he makes his way through the crowd towards the vip booth up above the dance floor where liam and danielle have the party set up. he brushes up against people's shoulders, feels their hands on his arms. he can't help scanning the faces of everyone there, wondering if one of them is harry. the first time harry touches him again, louis wants to memorize it.

 

he's nearly there when he sees him. louis is smiling at someone who bumped into him, a tight smile and 'it's fine' wave when he feels the hairs on the back of his neck raise. he looks up at the balcony overlooking the floor and green eyes lock on blue. he's so far away, louis can't make out the expression on his face, but without a doubt it's harry.

 

louis’ heart jumps in his throat. he can feel his blood pounding in his ears and the bass from the speakers is overwhelming and he can’t make himself move, it’s like he’s frozen in time just looking up at harry. with the flashing lights spinning madly through the club, every few seconds harry’s face is lit up blindingly. his mouth is dropped open, eyes wide and disbelieving. he’s gripping the railing so tightly that the muscles in his arms stand out. he looks so confused and adorable that louis laughs, and that seems to break the spell a bit. harry’s face lights up and he spins away from the balcony. louis stays put, but can see him sprinting across the floor, waving at someone who yells his name, then rushing down the spiral staircase so fast he nearly trips once or twice - louis has every intention of holding that against him in the future - and pushing his way through the crowd until, finally, he’s standing a few feet away from louis.

 

he looks... good, is the thing. tan from the summer sun, even here in london. his hair is different, but his eyes aren’t. harry is looking at louis with this expression like he’s been lost and found for the last five years all at the same time, and, yeah. louis gets that.

 

harry opens his mouth a couple of times, trying to get out one sentence or another, but finally just shakes his head and shrugs a bit helplessly. louis bites his lip, clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides because he knows what he wants, he wants to throw himself in harry’s arms and never let go, but he’s not sure if that’s allowed just yet.

 

suddenly three things happen all at once.

 

harry’s arms open and he takes a step forward, eyes wide and wet. something in louis clicks into place and he feels silly for questioning for even a moment if he was allowed to touch. harry is his, of course, harry’s feeling everything he is. louis feels his face break open into a blinding smile.

 

a hand appears on harry’s shoulder. a hand attached to a tall, quiffed man with a wide smile and covered in more rings than louis has seen on a hand in, well, a long time. when harry turns to glance at the owner of the hand, his face changes instantly, closing off and looking suddenly torn.

 

niall looks over the balcony to find where harry went, and spots louis. he lets out a guttural yell of louis’ name that attracts the attention of nearly everyone in the club, and all of the sudden it’s a stampede to reach louis and harry first.

 

they’re both caught up in the swirl of people around them and louis is torn away from harry’s side, pulled into hugs from dozens of friends. laughing, letting himself be petted and cooed over, but all the time keeping his eyes on harry and the man. harry has turned and is facing the man, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck and talking a bit dazedly. he must finally get out what he’s trying to say because the man’s eyes widen and he looks back at louis with new understanding. he nods as harry keeps speaking, gesturing a bit, and then he throws an arm around harry’s shoulder in a casual way that makes louis’ spine prickle a bit. he leads harry towards the back exit of the club, and if louis wasn’t currently being smothered by a very enthusiastic niall, he would’ve ran after them and pulled harry out from under the arm of anyone who wasn’t louis himself.

 

liam, of course, is an absolute saint about louis’ arrival taking away the attention from him, even though it is his birthday party.

 

“lou, you’re the best surprise i could’ve asked for. i don’t mind sharing you.”

 

louis can’t help but be constantly astonished by the genuine goodness that liam exudes. he is content to just sit next to louis and let the conversation flow over him as louis fills everyone in on his life in new york city. harry and the man snuck back into the circle of friends not long after they had left, and louis tries not to be annoyed at how the man keeps a solid grip on harry’s thigh, possessive and grounding. harry’s stayed mostly quiet, still hasn’t said a word to louis, but louis is okay with that. they have so much to say to each other that really can’t be said in front of all these people.

 

the air around him feels different, charged somehow. he’s telling a story about ellie and greg, he feels himself waving his hands and making the right faces and words, but louis isn’t paying attention to that. his mind is overwhelmed with one loop of thought: _he’s here he’s here he’s here finally after all this time harry’s sitting right here_. it’s such a strange sensation that after years of waiting, of reaching out for empty space in that moment before sleep and waking, that he could reach out and touch actual flesh. he wouldn’t even have to take more than a few steps to touch harry’s skin. they’re breathing the same air and how on earth did louis deny himself this for so long?

 

the rest of the night goes much the same. louis picks out harry’s voice when they all sing happy birthday to liam. watches as harry inches away every time louis gets closer. he catches up with everyone, giving them as much of himself as he can spare. he’s pretty proud of himself for not screaming out in frustration when, every time he goes and tries to corner harry, another long lost friend or new acquaintance who’s ‘heard so much about you!’ pops up and gets in his way.

 

finally when the party is winding down and the place is starting to clear out, louis catches sight of harry walking towards the exit alone. he excuses himself from his conversation with liam’s older sister and runs out after him into the warm august night.

 

“harry! harry, wait up!”

 

harry pauses but doesn’t turn, just lets his head drop back and his shoulders droop. “hey, lou,” he says resignedly.

 

louis is a bit hurt at that, but doesn’t let it stop him. he keeps going until he’s standing in front of harry, looking up at him and, wow. when did the kid get so tall?

 

“harry, hey. um.” and of course now that he’s here, he can’t think of a single thing to say. “how are... did you... the party? did you have fun at the party?”

 

harry looks down and meets louis’ eyes and it’s overwhelming, the amount of emotion that’s sitting right there on his face. “it was a nice party,” he says softly.

 

louis swallows, and he tries to be serious like harry’s face seems to say the moment is, but he can’t. he just can’t. it’s harry and he’s here and louis is here and finally it feels like things are falling into place.

 

“listen, i know this is a little overdue, like, years overdue, but i was wondering if you would like to get -”

 

“harry?” louis glances over his shoulder and sees that man again, reaching out a hand for harry as he climbs into a taxi. “you ready to go?”

 

louis opens his mouth and is about to make a comment about how harry is very clearly a bit occupied at the moment, thank you, but harry takes care of that for him.

 

“yeah, nick, just a sec.” then he turns back to louis and very gently, deliberately, presses a kiss to louis’ cheek. “it was good to see you again, louis. we’ll have to catch up, grab dinner some time.”

 

and the words themselves aren’t too terribly different from what louis was going to say, but the way harry says them cuts him a bit deeper than he thought was possible. like they’re casual acquaintances, like a quick coffee at starbucks would be enough for him. louis feels himself being completely dismissed as harry turns and, fuck. walks to nick, takes his hand. gets in the black cab after him. the lights from the club are reflecting off the window, but not so much that louis can’t see how harry buries his head in nick’s neck, how nick leans down at kisses him softly.

 

louis’ world is spinning off its axis, spinning too fast. nothing makes sense the way it did a few minutes ago. his cheek is burning where harry’s dry lips had pressed against it for a moment. he sinks onto the curb and sits, buries his head in his hands and can’t think of a single thing to say other than, “fuck.”

 

liam and danielle find him there like that a while later, laugh a bit because they’re sure he just had too much to drink. “typical tommo,” liam says cheerfully, “it’s not a good party until louis is passed out in a gutter somewhere.” they both seem to have forgotten that louis hasn’t drank a single drop all night. he’d been too drunk off the sight of harry live in the flesh, he thinks bitterly.

 

the three of them make their way across town to liam and danielle’s flat, and liam pulls louis into a crushing hug before stumbling off to bed himself. danielle follows louis to the bathroom and watches as he washes his face and cleans his teeth. neither of them say anything for a while, but danielle finally breaks the silence.

 

“his name is nick grimshaw. they’ve been dating for about a year, even moved in a few months ago. that’s why we have the flat now.”

 

louis braces himself against the sink and lets his head drop. he feels like a proper moron for it now. “i just.” he swallows, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice, “i never thought. it never even crossed my mind.”

 

danielle snorts. “what, it never crossed your mind that the boy you abandoned without a word would eventually find himself a new best friend? a new boyfriend? you left him with nothing, lou. he had no clue if he’d ever see you again. that boy waited four years for you without even questioning it, but eventually even he had to give up.”

 

a noise rips itself from louis’ throat without his permission, low and pained. when he glances a look up he sees danielle’s face change. she smiles at him sadly, the clucks her tongue at him and reaches out to pull him down so he can hide his head in her shoulder. “c’mon, pet. it’s not as bad as all that. either you’ll end up together or you won’t, that’s all there is to it. you’ve made a lot of mistakes with him, but i saw the way his face lit up when he saw you. he’s probably even more confused than you are. give him a break.”

 

she reaches up on tiptoes and kisses his forehead before turning and heading to her and liam’s bedroom, leaving louis with his thoughts and his reflection and the bitter taste of rejection and loneliness curling in the back of his throat.

 

v.

 

louis allows himself that one night for wallowing, and plans to be fine by the next morning. picking himself up by the bootstraps turns out to be a little harder than he'd planned, though. there was so much to be done, calls to make to his family, to find a job, to find some place to live. to decide if he even wanted to stay now that being with harry wasn't an option.

 

every time his phone buzzes, though, one notification after another as friends in new york realize he’s gone and friends in england realize he’s back, louis burrows himself deeper under his covers. his head feels fuzzy and his heart feels heavy and he can't quite breathe properly quite yet. another five minutes, another five minutes, another five minutes. but before he knows it it's noon and he's spent half the day in bed, hands clenched into fists and heartbeat still just as unsteady. he tries to justify it with jet lag, but the truth is that louis feels completely lost. his plan had - well, when he's brutally honest with himself he realizes that he never had a plan. plane, cab, apartment, harry's arms, happily ever after. he's never accounted for the idea that, for as much as he's grown and changed over the last few years, harry's been here in london doing the same. making friends, moving around, having experiences. he's graduated from university, maybe even found a clinic to work in. maybe he doesn’t even want to be a doctor anymore. it makes his head spin.

 

finally around two in the afternoon, louis decides he's done. he may not have gotten harry back right away like he planned, but he certainly didn't fly all the way to london to sit and wallow in his old bed.

 

he sets up his get up and go playlist and gets ready with a vengeance. showering and shaving  and getting dressed feels like a triumph when you do it to the tune of m.i.a.'s bad girls. live fast, die young, etc, etc. it only takes him a few minutes to build his resolve back up and wash the grit and grime of travelling and disappointment away from his shin and within an hour he's heading out the door, armed with a new resolve, his bright red skinny jeans, and the promise of his first london brewed yorkshire tea in years.

 

the walk to the cafe is ingrained in his memory, and it takes no time at all until he's walking through the heavy wooden door and is hit with the familiar scent of tea and coffee and pastries and home. he's greeted by cheers and slaps on the back from niall and liam, and a few of the new customers. he's so caught up in the familiarity of it all that he misses the bell over the door tinkling and doesn't realize that harry and nick have come inside until it's too late. he doesn't have time to catch his breath. harry isn't expecting it either, if the spooked look on his face and the way he blindly reaches back for nick's hand is anything to go by.

 

"louis," he says weakly, "what are you... you're here?"

 

louis can't quite take his eyes off the way harry's fingers are linked with nick's. it's so weird; he can't get over the pulse of _wrongwrongwrong_ it shoots through his gut, but there's something aesthetically pleasing about it. harry's taken to wearing chunky rings over the last couple of years, and they look warm where they rest against nick's. "figured i'd hit up some of the old haunts," he says, hoping harry won't pick up on how his voice feels a bit strangled and he hasn't met his eyes yet. judging by the way harry's hands clench a bit tighter at nick's, louis can't have done a good job at hiding it. it's harry; he never stood much of a chance.

 

"well, we haven't been properly introduced yet, mate, i'm nick. grimshaw. i've heard so much about you."

 

nick's voice and outstretched hand finally jolt louis out of his trance. it's so weird to realize that he's right. nick has taken up such a huge part of louis' thoughts in the past twelve hours, so drastically pushed him off kilter, and they've not even had a conversation yet.

 

"louis," he says, forcing a smile and shaking nick's hand firmly. "you two want to join me for a drink? i just got here, could use the company."

 

despite harry's reluctance, nick agrees and the three of them settle in a back booth. it's not the one that louis used to sit in with aiden, harry had guided them away from that one solidly, but it's close by. after ribbing nick sufficiently for ordering a coffee instead of tea, louis settles in and the three of them get along pretty well. harry is tense, doesn't speak much and downs twice as much tea as he used to, but nick and louis fall into a banter that louis sort of resents.

 

he wants to hate nick, is the thing. he desperately wants to hate him. nick represents everything in harry's life that louis isn't a part of and as much as that hurts, nick is hilarious and dry and entertaining. he can keep up with louis in a way that most people can't right away and it's frustrating and kind of awesome. louis is a bundle of nerves and emotions and he starts bouncing a bit in his seat without even noticing until harry stands up to get a refill on his drink and lays a heavy hand on louis' shoulder, calming him instantly. he leaves his hand there just long enough to make sure that louis won't start it up again, feels louis let out a deep breath and settle, and then moves on without mentioning it again.

 

louis learns a lot in the hour they sit and talk. nick is a radio announcer for an underground station, doing the nighttime show. harry works in a clinic in north london, not far from his and nick's place on primrose hill (louis nearly laughs out loud at that - he can't count the times he and harry had laughed at the snobby teenagers in their classes or in clubs that boasted about coming from that area of town. he makes eye contact with harry at that, and when the boy rolls his eyes and bites his lip to suppress a grin, louis' heart jumps back up in his throat) and that nick djs for parties on the weekends for a bit of extra income.

 

nick is in the middle of a story about holding back the hair of a very drunk kate moss at a party when harry's patience seems to come to an end.

 

"it's been real, lou -" he catches himself at the nickname in a way that makes louis' insides lurch painfully, "louis. but nick has that thing he needs to get to, don't you, nick?"

 

he stands up abruptly and the bubble of comfort the three of them have been in pops. louis suddenly remembers that nick isn't just one of the lads; he's harry's boyfriend. harry isn't leaving with louis, he's going home with nick to their one bedroom apartment and their dog. they'll probably stop at tesco’s on the way home and pick up chicken or lasagna and harry will cook it for him while some old indie record plays on their vinyl player that nick mentioned sits in his living room.

 

nick takes harry's hand when he stands and suddenly louis feels sick to his stomach. all these stories nick has been telling about _their_ neighbor with the bongos, _their_ friends, the party _they_ went to; he meant him and harry. him and harry as a unit, a couple. as a twosome, in a way that louis isn't.

 

he must say goodbye, something about meeting up again soon, but louis can't remember any of it. everything feels like it's moving in slow motion except his heart, which is beating triple time. he plops down on the bench of the booth once nick and harry are out the door and buries his face in his hands, trying to reconcile the stiff and uncomfortable boy he just spent an hour talking to with the warm and open hearted memory of harry he has in his head.

 

vi.

 

it’s been three days since the incident in the coffee shop when liam and danielle finally stage their intervention. louis is sitting on the couch wrapped up in a blanket, surrounded by empty pizza boxes and every season of one tree hill that he’d left behind in the flat. apparently harry hadn’t considered it important enough to take with him, which means lucas scott and brooke davis have been sitting on the shelf, untouched, for over five years, and that’s just not a reality louis can live with.

 

the first night after had been rough to navigate, and louis had come clean to liam about everything to do with harry. he'd conveniently left out the part about forgetting that it was liam's birthday, but other than that it felt good for someone else to know the truth, someone who knew him and knew them. liam was able to understand in a way other people couldn't because he had been there. of course, if louis had expected that to gain him any sympathy, he would've been wrong, apparently.

 

“turning into a bit of a cliché, don’t you think lou?” danielle asks, trying for kind but landing somewhere between annoyed and pissed off.

 

and it’s not even like louis can blame her. he’s sure that if some long lost friend showed up and parked themselves on his couch and pathetically cried through the night, he’d be more than annoyed. and though he knows, logically, that she’s right, he can’t quite bring himself to get up and off the couch.

 

"they're clichés for a reason, right?"  

 

liam steps gingerly over the pizza boxes before curling up around louis. "you know i love you lou, right?" louis nods. there may not be a lot that he is sure of right now, but on that short list is that liam loves him fiercely. probably more than he deserves. "then believe me when i tell you that if you're planning on winning harry back, this definitely isn't the way to do it."

 

louis opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it just as quickly. because, well, liam isn't wrong. he knows that, and he knows he isn't doing anyone any favors by sitting around getting fat. but even knowing that, the idea of movement seems so farfetched. moving towards harry, moving away from harry, it's so much easier to be still.

 

"i don't know what to do, li," he finally admits. "i pull this big romantic gesture and not only does it fall flat, but it fails spectacularly. i feel like my life is just, you know. i'm so far from where i thought i'd be."

 

liam looks thoughtful for a moment, rubbing at his chin with his fingertips. "that's fair," he reasons. "you expected to come home and have harry, and now you've come home and you don't have harry. but like, at least you're here, right? phase one of the plan is down."

 

"yeah, a fat lot of good that's done me," louis spits out. "i've not left the flat in days, i just feel frozen."

 

"and whose fault is that, love?" danielle asks gently, leaning over to brush louis' fringe out of his eyes. he can't help leaning into the touch a bit, trying to ground himself from spinning out of control. "we're not saying you have to go tap dance on his doormat, please don't, but maybe go on a milk run? get some fresh air, it may clear your head a bit."

 

louis knows for a fact that there's a fresh pint of milk in the fridge, liam just did the shopping two days ago, but he sees the gesture for what it is. and honestly, it's the least he can do.

 

so out he goes. tesco’s is only at the end of the street, but once louis is out, he realizes that danielle is right. he needs more than a few steps. he walks and walks and walks, not paying attention to street signs or directions, just getting swept up in the crush of people surrounding him. it’s so soothing, one of those things that’s the same in london or new york or any city, really, only the accents change.

 

after what feels like hours he notices a supermarket up ahead, and figures it's time. he wanders through the aisles a bit aimlessly, putting things in his cart just to return them a moment later. it's more going through the motion that drives him than any real need for nutella and three tubes of toothpaste.

 

"i'd ask if you come here often, but i know for a fact that you don't."

 

louis nearly shrieks and drops his basket when he hears harry's voice behind him. he spins around and sees harry with his arms crossed on his chest, wearing a smirk and a pair of scrubs with the superman logo printed all over. his eyes look bright and happy and tired, and louis feels his breath catch. this is what harry looks like to other people.

 

he falls in love all over again.

 

after a moment of what he's sure is awkward staring, louis clears his throat and smiles shakily at harry. "got a bit lost, if i'm honest. it's possible that i've been lost for quite some time."

 

harry's smile loses a bit of its easiness, reading between louis' lines as easily as he ever has. "well," he says, shooting for sarcastic as he shifts from one foot to the other, "too bad you've not got a map, or gps on your phone. and there's this map of london's underground."

 

he's teasing, a bit. it feels good, natural. so naturally louis wants to fuck it up.

 

"so, what's happening, here."

 

harry keeps smiling a bit like he hasn't quite understood the joke. "dunno about you, but i was sort of planning on picking up dinner."

 

"right," louis pushes on, "but what are. what are we doing, hazza?"

 

harry's smile falters at that. "lou, i don't know what you were, like, expecting, but i have a life here now. a life that you made it abundantly clear you weren't interested in being a part of. it's been so long, i don't even know how to begin to..."

 

"dinner," louis says quickly. "you were buying dinner, right? lets you and i sit down and just eat and talk, i want to know all about your family and london and being a doctor and -"

 

"'m not a doctor, louis," harry says, gaze dropping.

 

it takes louis a moment to register that. "but... that's what you were doing. pre med, i remember. the scrubs..."

 

there's a beat, then harry shakes his head and blows out a huff of breath. "it just didn't happen. i'm a nurse, and i love it. your mum helped me get set up, actually, it's a nice clinic."

 

this completely throws louis. the harry he knew never would've settled for anything less than what he wanted. he would've fought tooth and nail for it. "but it was your dream. being a doctor was, like, it was all you wanted."

 

harry looks at louis a bit sadly, like he's read the end of the book before louis has. "dreams change sometimes, love."

 

he turns to walk away and, like, no. louis refuses to believe that this is how the story ends. maybe harry read to the end of the chapter, but not the very end. louis can't, won't, envision an ending to his story that doesn't include harry as a part of it. louis grabs at his arm and tugs him back. harry comes easily, almost as if he'd been hoping louis would pull him back.

 

"okay, so dinner is off the table. fine." louis' heart picks up a bit at how harry snorts at his lame pun. "coffee? tea? anything. just as friends, nothing more." it sits a bit like a lie on his tongue. louis isn't sure he'll ever be satisfied with being just friends with harry. but he's more than willing to say it. "come on, hazza, i've had five years of wretched yankee tea. got a lot to make up for, me."

 

he smiles and nudges harry's shoulder, smile growing bigger when harry rolls his eyes and smiles back, however small.

 

"i suppose a decent tea is my duty as a british citizen, innit."

 

louis smiles even bigger, ditches his shopping basket and grabs at harry's hand, dragging him along the aisle while shouting, "god save the queen!"

 

vi.

 

the thing about falling, louis realizes, is that you sometimes psych yourself out to think you've hit the bottom. you've been away from solid ground for so long that you convince yourself that this is it, then you're stunned when you realize that you are still plummeting toward some unknowable ground.

 

sitting across from harry, watching his face light up as he describes the office where he works, finding superhero plasters for the little kids and comforting the worried parents, wearing scrubs with cats that nick bought him and getting teased by his coworkers... it's sort of everything louis has ever wanted. he can’t help thinking of that documentary about flowers, and how sunflowers turn to face the sun, and yeah. if the sun makes them feel anything like harry makes him feel, he would turn like they do too.

 

he does his best to not push, letting harry leave without much protest when he says it's time. it must be good because harry asks for his phone and types in his number, with an invitation to drinks later in the week. things fall into an uneasy peace that night, with louis only grinding his teeth a little when nick and harry dance to the live band and nick has his hands all over harry's waist, harry's hips, running through harry's hair. he laughs when he's supposed to and doesn't drink too much and when he gets home that night, he refuses to cry in the shower. this isn't a break up, he's not losing anything.

 

if anything he's getting harry back in all the ways that count. every time harry tags him in an instagram picture, or texts him something stupid about a patient or someone on the underground, it feels like a tiny victory. and louis is all about tiny victories lately. danielle comes home one night with the announcement that one of the teachers at her studio is going on maternity leave and her job is louis' if he wants it, at least temporarily. it's not ideal; he'd sort of hoped that all that education would take him farther than teaching tap to four year olds, but it's a paycheck to put towards food shopping for liam and danielle and to squirrel away towards the far off idea of his own place.

 

the job is lovely, and living with liam and danielle isn’t that far away from living with greg and ellie. they’re quite a bit tidier, around more, and something about them seems solid. when they come back from dinner one night with a slim silver engagement band on danielle’s ring finger, louis isn’t even a little bit surprised. they don’t bother with a date, it’s enough for them to know that the promise is there. it makes him ache, just a bit, because that’s what he came back for. his life hasn’t changed so dramatically, he just pines for harry up close instead of from a distance.

 

an uneasy truce comes up between louis and nick. it’s not like louis has never seen harry with someone else before, but he can tell there’s something different about nick. maybe it’s just growing up, but they’re quietly good together in a way that louis didn’t realize harry had in him. it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that nick adores harry, protects him and watches out for him in a way that means that he’s seen him hurt and will go to the ends of the earth to make sure it never happens again. louis wishes he knew more about them, how they met and if harry still missed him, if he still misses him, if he wishes… right. truce.

 

things come to a bit of a head one day after receiving a cryptic text from harry reading _when the first party, you, chooses to reject full disclosure, we the second party are not to be held responsible for not being able to withhold information from any third parties that were not informed of the first party's shift in geographical location._

 

_english, harold._

 

_i didn't know we weren't telling mama jay you were back in town._

 

so louis probably deserves the tongue lashing he gets when a knock comes at the door and he's brought face to face with not only his own mother, but harry's as well.

 

"-having a perfectly nice lunch with anne here and i had to hear from her that she'd heard from harry that you were in london! and apparently lottie knew as well, don't bother telling me, i'm only your _mother_ -"

 

louis watches with a fond expression as his mother flitters around the kitchen making tea. her hands are shaking something fierce and it makes him grin a little to know that his nervous habits have been inherited just as clearly as his eyes.

 

"mum?" he interrupts, approaching her slowly, as if she'll startle and run away if he moves too quickly. she finally looks back with tears welling in her eyes. "i missed you too."

 

anne has the decency to break in then with a well-timed, "fucks sake, jay, hurry up and hug him so i can get my turn!"

 

in his mother's arms, louis opens his eyes and looks over her shoulder to study anne. she looks mostly the same, just as beautiful as ever. he doesn't miss the giant diamond ring on her finger, and it makes him ache. more proof of another thing he's missed. but down that path lies madness, so louis swallows around the lump in his throat and opens his arms to include her in their group hug.

 

it doesn't take long after that for anne to call up harry, who was with niall, who called liam home and suddenly louis is in the middle of a belated welcome home party. he has a pretty good view from his perch on the arm of the sofa, can see his mother and harry laughing in the kitchen, and danielle patiently walking a cackling niall and endearingly concentrated liam through the steps of her latest dance routine.

 

it's everything he's missed, being surrounded by people who know him without even having to try. sure, he may have come back for harry originally, but he's amazed at how much more he's found. a sense of belonging settles under his skin, but it doesn't quite fit anymore. all louis can think of is the first snowfall every year as a kid, when his mum would try to stuff him into his winter coat from the year before. he would squeeze and shove for what felt like hours until she would cluck her tongue and mutter something about moving the budget around and getting him a new one. it's that same mixture of disappointment and a bit of shame and just a pinch of betrayal that something he loved so much didn't fit him quite right.

 

he can only dwell on it for a minute, and when he catches harry smiling at him a bit absently from the kitchen it gets to be too much and he quietly slips toward the sliding glass door leading out to the balcony. it takes a moment of digging around in the dirt around the potted plant that sits out there - definitely a liam addition - to find the contraband pack of cigarettes he'd hidden there a few days ago.

 

"mind a bit of company?"

 

anne's voice nearly makes louis jump out of his skin, and he instinctively hides the pack behind his back. he feels all of fourteen again, getting caught sneaking a bottle of whiskey from his mum's liquor cabinet.

 

"not at all," he smiles.

 

there's always been something in the way anne carries herself that reminds him of a princess. where his mother was always fun and silly and playful, anne is graceful and kind, strong in a way that is quiet, always present but never showy. louis remembers falling a bit in love with her the first time they met and has continued to do so every day for years. she's so much of what he's wanted to be but is just the littlest bit too clumsy to achieve. it doesn't help that he can see harry shining out of bits of her, the way her hand wraps around the beer bottle and the set of her shoulders.

 

"so you're back," she says, and louis nearly laughs. it's such an anne thing to say, quietly opening the door but never forcing.

 

"looks like," he says, fingers itching for something to hold onto to steady themselves. anne notices and chuckles a bit before nodding with a "go ahead, i promise not to tell your mum," and louis smiles gratefully as he pulls out the pack and a lighter.

 

once his lungs are full and he breathes out the smoke, louis feels the tiniest bit braver.

 

"finally made an honest woman out of robin, then?" he says with a nod towards her hand.

 

anne is quiet for a minute before answering. "you were gone for a long time, lou," she says quietly. "a lot has changed."

 

somehow louis knows she's not just talking about herself. and, shit, there aren't enough cigarettes in the world to give him the courage to get through this conversation if it's going to go the way he thinks it is.

 

"anne -"

 

"you broke my baby's heart, louis."

 

and really, what can he say to that? he drops heavily into the plastic chair and takes another deep drag on his cigarette. he opens his mouth but all that comes out is a soft, "i know."

 

"you broke his heart when you left," she says, face carefully blank. "and you broke it all over again every day that you didn't call, and every birthday that went by without so much as a text. and you probably broke it when you showed up for liam after five years of not showing up for him."

 

"no," louis breaks in. he can listen to anne list his sins in a cold, clinical voice, but he can't bear any doubt on this point at least. "i did not come back for liam. i did not."

 

anne studied him for a second before breaking into a tiny smile. "you know, i had a hunch about that."

 

she brushes the front of her dress and takes a last drink from her bottle, breaking the tense atmosphere effortlessly. for the moment, at least, her armor is laid down. "you know what i think?" she asks. louis can't answer, voice still caught beneath the lump in his throat. "i think you had some growing up to do," anne says kindly, reaching down and cupping louis' cheek in her hand.

 

"and i'm a big boy now?" he teases, hoping she doesn't notice the slight break in his voice and knowing she does.

 

anne studies him for a moment before pulling him to his feet and holding her bottle out for him to douse his cigarette in.

 

"you prove that me," she says before opening the door and slipping back inside, leaving louis alone with his thoughts.

 

vii.

it’s a tradition that louis has missed the last few years, sitting around a campfire and passing around niall’s guitar and singing. it had started when harry and louis tried singing for tips at the cafe and liam had soon joined in, and it had leaked into the quiet space of closing time, when it was harry and louis and liam and an empty cafe and coldplay sing alongs. then the last weekend before school started was deemed camping week, and the boys would pile into a car with a tent and supplies in the background and more whiskey and vodka than would be strictly reasonable.

 

that first year they'd established a firm 'no significant others' rule, and louis thanks his lucky stars for that. he is, however, a bit taken aback at the sight of a beautiful, artsy looking boy lounging against niall's big truck. he's smoking away on a fag and louis lights up a bit - maybe this guy with the cheekbones cut from glass will be an ally in his battle to convince liam to let him smoke inside.

 

"hiya, mate, i'm -" louis starts, sticking his hand out.

 

the man looks at it disdainfully and doesn't reciprocate. "louis, i know. you're the reason harry came into my shop and bought nothing but the smiths records and cried for six months straight. charmed, i'm sure."

 

he turns away at that, seemingly done with the conversation. louis' smile is frozen and his hand dangles a bit awkwardly in the air before using it to hike his bag further up his shoulder. "right," he mutters under his breath, "this'll be a blast."

 

over the next few hours of the drive to harry's stepdad's bungalow - the generally accepted best place to camp, the tent for anyone who felt like braving the great outdoors and warm beds for the sane ones - louis learns that the newest addition to their group is called zayn, and he'd joined in the year after louis left. once the rest of the lads show up his icy exterior melts quite a bit and it turns out that he's got a sharp wit and infectious laugh. louis buries the twinge of jealousy that whispers _replacedreplacedreplaced_ under his skin and raises up a bit to stick his head out the window and feel the wind ruffle up his hair. everyone in the car groans and protests, but louis just laughs and lets out a long howl, his voice lost in the rush of air. he spares a glance into the car and sees harry shaking his head at him from the passenger seat. louis shoots him a grin and harry rolls his eyes, but then lowers his own window and lets out a guttural howl of his own. there must be something to that pack mentality thing, because once harry gives in it’s only a moment before the other three boys are joining them. louis laughs and closes his eyes, every inch of his skin sparking with anticipation. best lads weekend ever.

 

the first hour is spent divvying up rooms - zayn and harry sharing the master, while liam and niall take the couch and second bedroom. despite all his needling and peer pressure, louis can't convince any of them to stay in the tent with him. he's reached an age when he really would prefer kipping with niall in the full sized bed with all sorts of amenities and plumbing but he had been the one to insist bringing the tent so he figures he'd better stick to his guns, no matter how much his back will be protesting in the morning.

 

dinner is a quiet affair, everyone tired from the drive and just enjoying some peace and quiet after the hustle of the city. someone - liam most likely - calls for pizza and they eat their weight in pepperoni and sausage, with a green pepper pizza that everyone else scoffs at whole louis and harry just grin at each other.

 

it's not until everyone is fully engrossed in some mindless action movie that louis finally feels safe to sneak a glance at harry. he's taken anne's challenge seriously, looking out for harry and keeping his distance, but his arms open. his heart open. he's done his best over the past few weeks to keep himself balancing on that tightrope between getting his hopes up and getting discouraged and giving up. bringing up inside jokes, but trying not to make too many new ones. flirting with other people at the shops or bars, but never taking it further. he tries to make himself believe that he's imagining harry's shoulders loosen up every time he sees louis chuck another cocktail napkin with another number, but he's definitely sure he doesn't imagine the way nick tenses up.

 

it's a fine line, and honestly louis is exhausted, so he lets himself indulge a little. it's so strange, thinking of the last time he was here. he'd been twenty and so sure of himself, of how his life would turn out. he never would've imagined a time when looking openly at harry would be a luxury. but, louis reasons, he also never would've imagined moving to new york, or having roommates and friends who he can listen to on the radio. so maybe louis at twenty one didn't have it all quite figured out either.

 

"care for a smoke?" niall's voice jolts him out of his thoughts, and it's probably a good thing. harry can always feel when louis' gaze gets too heavy, and undoubtedly it would lead to so much more awkwardness than louis is willing to deal with.

 

with a smile thrown over his shoulders towards the other boys, louis follows niall out into the darkness and lowers himself onto the porch steps with a heavy thud. he eyes the tent set up on the grass a bit mistrustfully; he's pretty sure liam had been reading the instructions upside down as he'd set it up.

 

"didn't know you smoked," he says to niall as he pulls the pack from his pocket and offers one over.

 

"don't," niall says easily. he rests his weight on his elbows, gazing up into the sky. "just fancied a chat."

 

louis hmmms noncommitally, but he's not really upset. niall is safe, a positive influence. he's the one person here that louis can trust to not put him in an awkward spot.

 

"be honest with me, lou," niall says, voice uncharacteristically heavy, "are you in it for actual harry, or just the idea of him?"

 

and, okay, scratch everything louis said about niall taking it easy on him. he feels his spine go rigid and his first instinct is to lash out. every single person in his life has questioned his motives with this, no one has been on his side at all.

 

but instead he just lights up and takes a deep drag, willing his anger to cool before answering. niall, bless him, keeps his breathing even and gaze steady on the sky. finally, when louis trusts his voice to not shake, he speaks.

 

"i dated this guy a few years back, an artist. he was beautiful, clever, kinder than i deserved, you know?" niall's brow is furrowed, but he doesn't interrupt. "i modeled for this project he did, where he painted me in a bunch of different styles. it wasn't a big deal, just." louis stubs out his cigarette and then lowers himself down next to niall, shoulders brushing as the look up at the sliver of a moon. "he taught me so much about myself, about who i could be and what i deserved. not just because of how i looked, or how i was funny or how i danced. it was more, like, my core. my soul. everything else was just what i chose to do with it. and that affected how i look at the people around me. i saw that spark in them, and then what they did with it."

 

"riiight..." niall prompts after a moment of silence.

 

"and like, before. harry was this bright light, shining and shimmering and i just wanted him close, but i didn't get why and i wasn't willing to do what it took to keep him, because i knew that once i said yes i'd never be able to take it back. and that's quite a lot for a kid who has lived through three failed marriages and more baggage than... the point is, i was scared."

 

"but you're not now? what's changed?"

 

"grew up," louis shrugs. "moved to a city with eight million people, brushed shoulders with most of 'em, and not a single one of them made me not wake up missing harry. and i don't regret leaving, i needed to go. but i'm done needing to be away, i want to be here. like, people spend their lives looking for what i've found in him. that, like, twin spirits thing."

 

niall finally meets louis eyes. "like, soulmates?"

 

"exactly!" louis exclaims, "you get it?"

 

"not even a little bit, mate," niall says with a clap to louis' shoulder as he heaves himself up. "but it makes sense to you, and i reckon that's what matters."

 

louis shakes his head ruefully. if only it were that easy.

 

it's late that night and louis has finally started drifting off into a restless sleep when he hears steps coming closer. his heart leaps into his throat, and his hands scramble for the torch he knows is around here somewhere.

 

"louis?"

 

"harry?" he whispers back.

 

"let me in, yeah?"

 

louis chuckles a bit at the irony in that statement, but gets up and unzips the tent door. harry has to duck to get in, and then sits and pulls his legs in close to his chest as louis fumbles for the lantern. once it's lit, he turns his head away from louis and rests his cheek against his knee.

 

"zayn?" louis finally asks, hoping to break the silence.

 

"sleeping," harry says with a grin. "guy could sleep through the apocalypse."

 

"ah. seems nice," louis offers, picking at an invisible thread coming off his joggers.

 

"yeah, yeah, good lad," harry says absently. he's studying louis in a way that should make him uncomfortable, but it's not like louis hasn't been doing the same thing for weeks now, so. he forces himself to stare right back.

 

this is it. the chance he's been waiting for to apologize, to clear things up. but for the life of him, he can't get the words to come out. it's an impasse; louis waiting for harry, harry waiting for louis, neither one willing to say what needs to be said.

 

after a good five minutes of silence, harry shakes his head as if coming out if a dream.

 

"i should... yeah, i should go, i think." he gets to his feet too fast and bumps his head on the top of the tent, but doesn't notice in his rush to escape. he stumbles out and zips it back up, and louis barely has a chance to call out to him before he's disappeared.

 

"sleep sweet, hazza," he tries to be quiet, but loud enough for his voice to carry to harry.

 

"yeah," harry chuckles a bit grimly, before making his way back into the cabin, and any chance louis had to speak up is gone.

 

vii.

 

normally louis wouldn't bother answering the door. this is liam's flat now and he'd been inherently lazy with it even when he'd lived here with harry, but whoever is on the other side has been knocking steadily an insistently for a solid minute, banging with his fist instead of a light rap of knuckles so it must be urgent.

 

"i'm coming, easy tiger," louis mutters under his breath. when he twists the lock the door flies open and he only just manages to jump out of the way in time before it slams him in the face. all he catches is a blur of curly hair and a glimpse of an old ratty plaid shirt as the figure stalks past him and into the kitchen.

 

"harry," he breathes.

 

harry is pacing around like a caged tiger, running his hands through his stupid quiffed hair. when louis glimpses his eyes his stomach sinks. they're fierce and wild and hazy, like he's so angry he can't even see straight.

 

"hazza," louis tries again, reaching his hand out.

 

harry whirls around at that. "you don't get to fucking talk right now, louis."

 

louis flinches at the steel in his voice, how it flings his name like a dagger. he deserves it, and it's not like he didn't know harry would be upset.

 

they've only been home a few days from the camping trip but louis has used every opportunity possible to get under harry's skin - the one place he thinks he belongs. he's tried so hard to be patient but it's hard, hard to sit back and watch and be patient. louis may have lost his cool a bit, asking harry to dance and then grinding shamelessly against him. he'd followed him all around the bar like a lost puppy, and had growled at nick when he'd made the same observation. he'd been high off the cocktail of shots, sexual frustration, and constant rejection and the outcome wasn't pretty. _harry, harry, remember when. remember when i dated aiden and you were jealous, then you went out and got your own grimshaw? funny, isn’t that?_ that had probably been harry’s breaking point. liam had shoved him into a taxi after that with orders to sober up and a tenner for the ride, and louis may have tried to kiss him a bit as well.

 

a few water bottles and the oppressive silence of the flat had sobered him up pretty quickly though, and he’d apologize for crossing those lines if harry just gave him a chance to speak.

 

"four years, louis, it was four fucking years. did you honestly expect me to still be sitting in that airport waiting for you? how stupid are you, really?"

 

louis chews on his lip, willing himself to stay silent and not remind harry that, well, of course he expected that. harry promised.

 

"i can't believe you. i wrote to you every week for a year, and you couldn't once be bothered to write back. nothing, not my birthday, not christmas, not even a 'hi' for fuck’s sake. you spoke to your family, to the boys, everyone else when they were alone, but never once did you bother to say anything to me."

 

it's like a floodgate has opened and five years’ worth of anger and hurt are rushing out. all the times harry has shoved it aside, begged off discussing it, insisted it was in the past; apparently it wasn't buried so very deep after all. louis doesn't let himself zone out, doesn't fight back. harry deserves that, at the very least. he listens to every word harry says, and every word he doesn't.

 

"i'm settled now, louis. i have a job and a flat with my boyfriend, a boyfriend who cares about me." that nearly pushes louis to his feet to protest, but instead he focuses on the way his fingernails bite into the meat of his palm. it wouldn't make a difference anyway, harry doesn't seem to even be addressing him anymore. he's pacing again, and from his spot against the counter louis can see all the ways harry has changed since the last time they stood alone together in this kitchen.

 

"a boyfriend who calls when he says he will." harry's shoulders are broader, his body has filled out.

 

"a boyfriend who comes home to me every night." his voice is deeper, pitched low even through his frantic anger. all the icy exterior has melted and harry stands, frantic and frustrated, exactly like he had when louis had first mentioned new york.

 

"a boyfriend who likes me back. probably more than likes, if i'm honest." his jeans are skinnier than louis ever remembers them being, and he's traded his ratty old converse for a pair of suede boots, brown and classy. everything about harry seems casually classy, from his oh so carefully worn out shirt to his perfectly pushed back curls, cut so short they're barely waves. louis just wants to yank at them until they fall back into a pattern he recognizes.

 

it takes a minute for louis to realise that harry's fallen silent. he's leaning against the opposite counter heavily, head hanging low. everything in his posture radiates an air of weariness, like he's fighting against himself and the whole world. louis wants nothing more than to show harry that he's not alone, that he'll never be alone.

 

"is it too late, then?" louis steps forward, his hand hovering just barely above harry's back. it brushes so lightly every time harry inhales, just waiting. it feels like the whole world is waiting.

 

"a boyfriend who's waiting for me at home right now," harry says, but he doesn't move. louis lets himself be brave and pushes forward to let his hand press up against harry's back, and when harry doesn't jerk away he comes even closer, wrapping his arms around harry's middle and burying his face between harry's shoulder blades.

 

he's pushing his luck and he knows it. if he was any kind of smart he'd back away, let harry speak his peace and then go home and they could rehash it in the morning when they aren't so emotional. “tell me to back off, harry.”

 

but harry doesn’t; he’s here, closer than he has been in years and louis is afraid that if he lets go right now harry will slip away and never come back. he can't resist tightening his hold and breathing deep, taking in harry's scent. it's so familiar and foreign all at once.

 

a low, hurt noise comes out of harry's throat and he tentatively raises his hand to lace his fingers around louis' on his chest. "what do you want from me, louis?"

 

"everything," louis breathes out before he thinks. and it's the truth. he wants to see harry spread out, pale skin in stark contrast to his black duvet back in new york, panting and sweating. he wants to see the 4th of july fireworks reflected back in harry's eyes. he wants to be holding his hand when it's wrinkled and their fingers don't quite curl right. he wants to walk over every inch of the earth with harry.

 

harry doesn't hear all the things louis wraps up in that one word. or maybe he does, because without warning he twists out of louis' grip and spins on him, pushing him up against the fridge. louis' eyes go wide, and he opens his mouth to say something to try to quench the flames he can feel running through harry's bloodstream, but before the words come out harry is clutching his face tightly and licking into his mouth. louis is frozen, but harry doesn't give up, biting and kissing with an almost desperate, angry edge.

 

it takes a moment for louis to get with the program, but once he does, he gives it as good as he's getting. his fingers tangle in harry's hair, tugging him to a better angle and then, yes. once he's holding louis tight enough that it's obvious he's not going anywhere, harry lets his hands slide down from louis' cheeks, down his shoulders and round down his back, fingers digging in and sending sparks of heat down louis' spine. harry is towering over him, arms surrounding him, he's everywhere. louis' knees are buckling and he's halfway to passing out from lack of oxygen when harry finally pulls back, but louis hardly manages a deep breath before harry is attaching to his neck, biting and sucking and tugging louis even closer.

 

"missed you, hazza, missed you so much, i miss -"

 

"shut up," harry growls. it seems he's reached all of louis he can in his present state, and steps away to yank louis' shirt off and then settles his hands on the curve of his waist before going back to marking up every inch of louis.

 

louis can't think, can't breathe, can't process anything. it's all so overwhelming and it's harry, and he's so different but he's so, so much the same.

 

"you make me fuckin' crazy, you know that?" harry whispers into louis' shoulder. "thought it would go away, been so long, but -" he cuts himself off with a sharp nip to the muscle in louis' neck. louis tugs at his hair hard in retribution, but it backfires a bit when harry lets out a loud, low moan and jerks his hips forward.

 

now that is an idea louis can get behind. he digs his fingertips down harry's back, a mirror of the move harry had used on him, but doesn't stop at his waist. instead he grips harry by the arse and pulls him forward, rutting up into the cut of harry's hip. harry catches on quick and, ever the competitor, takes it up a notch  by wrapping his large hands around louis' thighs and lifting him up. louis' legs immediately lock around harry's waist, arms clinging around his neck like -

 

"koala bear," harry mutters with a silly grin, and louis laughs so hard his head falls back, smacking right into the fridge. now it's harry's turn to laugh when louis groans and lets go of harry's neck to rub at his own scalp.

 

"dick," louis mutters, and then rolls his eyes when harry thrusts up a bit with his hips and quirks his eyebrow, as if reminding louis exactly where his dick is.

 

"walked right into that one," harry smirks. louis rolls his eyes again, but he's smiling. some of the earlier angry tension has disappeared, and louis can see it. this is how they'll be. a constant pull and push of passion and silliness. it's all louis has ever wanted, really, and instead of terrifying him, it sets him on fire with desire.

 

he nudges his heel into harry's side and leans forward to lick and bite at the tender skin behind his ear. "c'mon, c'mon, harry, want you, please, want you. you, you, please..."

 

harry doesn't have to be told twice. he grunts a bit as he tightens his grip on louis' thighs, but carries him down the hall and into the bedroom with relative ease. louis is slightly more affected, the feel of being carried like a ragdoll apparently pressing buttons he didn't even realize he had. he's fully prepared to deal with the embarrassment of coming right in his pants when harry throws him down on the bed.

 

it's a bit weird, louis thinks absently as harry moves forward to straddle his hips and then attacks his mouth again, that it's happening here. when liam and danielle had moved in he'd taken louis' old room and converted this, harry's room, to the guest room. the walls are the same, the bed is the same, the way the moonlight streams through the window to highlight the lines of harry's body is the same as it was all those years ago.

 

harry pulls back and pulls his shirt off over his head, and louis is sufficiently distracted by what he finds that he can't worry about the color of the walls anymore. harry is absolutely covered in tattoos. first and foremost is a giant butterfly placed right under his ribs, and louis starts laughing until harry effectively silences his with a sharp roll of his hips.

 

"got some butterflies in your stomach, then?" louis says sympathetically, trying to keep a straight face.

 

harry groans and buries his face in louis' collarbone. "keep laughing, brat," he says with a sharp nip, "see what happens."

 

louis nearly does, opens his mouth to do just that, but then harry raises his head and kisses louis deeply and, well. he's willing to concede this battle at the moment, because harry is here, surrounding him, curled in half and louis was afraid he'd never get to be here, he's not going to waste time now that he is.

 

there are so many things that he wants to do, images of harry spread out beneath him, or on his knees in front of him, pushing him up against a wall. but everything that he can think of would require him to move, and that's not a sacrifice he's willing to make right now. so instead he reaches around and digs his fingers into harry's arse, pulling him closer. harry seems to be on board with that plan and grips louis' hips tighter, content to rut into him. the rub of their cocks against each other through the heavy denim of harry's jeans and thick cotton of louis' sweats nearly painful, and louis is so, so close in no time at all.

 

"harry," he moans, "need - i need -" and louis has no clue where he was going with that, hasn't any idea what he needs.

 

luckily, harry does. he lets go of louis' hips and tangles their legs together for leverage, then reaches back and laces his fingers through louis' and stretches them above his head. he bites down hard on louis' neck is what's surely going to be an impressive bruise, and speeds up his hips to a frantic pace.

 

"missed you, lou."

 

louis arches his back and pushes up hard, letting out a sigh as his orgasm hits him hard. he tries to pretend that's it's the extra stretch of his muscles rather than harry's words that send him over the edge. that lasts about the thirty seconds it takes for harry to finish off with a cut off whimper that sounds suspiciously like louis' name for him to drop that charade completely.

 

they hold each other through the aftershocks, harry absentmindedly petting louis' hair when he shivers a bit. a million thoughts are running through louis' mind, a million things he wants to say. he's pretty sure that he should give some sort of speech, make all kinds of promises that he fully intends to follow through on.

 

"harry," he begins.

 

"not now, louis," harry cuts him off and lifts himself up, rolling to the side of the bed and peeling out of his jeans and pants and leaving louis pressed into the mattress, frozen. when harry notices he doesn't move, he strips him down for him, tugging at his sweats and pants and tossing them across the room. louis should probably thank him, but he's a bit busy with the whole trying to convince the mattress to swallow him. he's probably over analyzing harry's curt tone, but something in him can't help it.

 

harry notices how still and quiet he is, and his eyes soften as he reaches out and runs a fingertip along the curve of louis' lower lip. "not never, just - in the morning. okay?" louis would figure it's just another brush off, but then harry lays beside him and wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him in close. louis lets him, tucks his own hands up under his chin and against the birds on harry's chest. it's dark, but this close he can see the light white ink script linking the two.

 

"what does it say?"

 

harry swallows hard, and when he does speak, it sounds like the words are costing him a great deal. "if i can only see you in dreams, then i'll stay in bed all day."

 

"former ghosts," louis says faintly. he should've known. he'd got a red string permanently around his ankle after hearing the very same song. he'll show it to harry in the morning, he decides.

 

louis burrows deeper into harry's neck and drifts off, falling deeply enough into sleep that he doesn't hear the rap on his door the next morning. he doesn't hear the click of his door creaking open, but he does hear liam's shouted "what the - harry?" when he sees the two boys tangled together naked under the sheets. and if that wasn't enough, louis certainly wakes up when he feels harry jerk away from his arms, pushing so hard that louis has to catch himself to keep from toppling to the floor. it would be comical if the roar of blood in his ears could've kept him from hearing harry's mumbled mantra of "no, no, no, this can't - i didn't - oh fuck, nick." as he yanks on his pants and shirt and runs out of louis' bedroom like hellhounds are chasing him, leaving a very bewildered liam in his wake. he doesn't glance back to louis laying in his bed, not once. louis can feel himself shaking apart under the weight of liam's gaze.

 

"what the hell was that, louis?" liam demands, "what's going on?"

 

and for the life of him, louis doesn't have an answer. so he stiffly lays himself back down and pulls the blankets over his head.

 

viii.

 

louis' rebound time is surprisingly quick, considering the size of the metaphorical slap in the face. it could have something to do with liam not giving him any time to wallow in self pity.

 

"you knew, louis," he says the minute harry's slammed the front door, "you knew about nick and you knew how serious things were and you slept with him anyway."

 

"we didn't sleep together, li, honestly, we just kissed a bit and may have -"

 

"are you even hearing yourself right now?" and, okay, that's liam yelling at him for the first time in his life. "we just kissed. you just kissed a boy who's dating and living with someone. a kiss you knew was more than a kiss, it was always going to be more than a kiss.”

 

he doesn’t have an argument for that, honestly. liam isn’t wrong; louis knew was he was asking for before he asked it. he’d also known there was a pretty good chance that harry was going to say yes. he’d known what it all meant before he did it; he’d done it anyway.

 

“it’s harry, liam,” is all he can respond, hands raising and then falling helplessly, like he thinks that answers anything. honestly, to louis, it sort of does.

 

liam isn’t so appeased, though. the way he paces across the room before sitting down heavily and resting his head in hands, louis notices for the first time in a long time just how big liam’s gotten. his shoulders are broad, arms filled out. all tense muscles hidden behind gentle hands and a kind face, but you really never wanted him opposite you in a street fight. in all the times that louis has pissed him off, pranking him and drinking all his milk and even one time walking in on him and danielle in a pretty compromising situation - louis really needs to stop rooming with couples - he’s never seen liam so genuinely disappointed. any self pity louis may have had slinks out the room when liam raises his head and looks so sad.

 

“that’s just. badly done, louis. that was badly done. nick deserves better, and harry deserves better.”

 

“it’s not like it was one sided,” louis argues weakly, “he came over, he started it.”

 

“you’ve been fucking with his head since day one, don’t play stupid.”

 

“why do you care so much, anyway?” louis asks.

 

liam just scoffs and stands at that. but he can’t seem to help himself from calling over his shoulder, “if you genuinely need to ask that then maybe we aren’t as good of friends as i thought we were.”

 

so, right. introspection clearly is needed. preferably out of the flat. louis showers as quickly as he can, scrubbing at the dried come gingerly and does his best to keep his mind blank as he rubs down the rest of him, then dresses and manages to make his way out the door before he’s caught by either of his roommates.

 

after his last experience of wandering aimlessly through london, louis figures he’s better off tucking himself away where he’s not likely to stumble into anyone in particular - especially harry - so he stops by a starbucks for a travel mug of tea and a bagel. it’s that perfect time of day, too early for lunch but too late for breakfast, so louis is able to make it through with minimal interaction. he would’ve preferred liam’s coffee shop, but he’s so not willing to take the risk of running into a familiar face.

 

first he tries a park not far from his flat. but harry is everywhere here, in the field where they played football, in the tree louis had drunkenly climbed on a dare. he's in the beanie of a girl passing by and the dimples of a man selling hot dogs.

 

so, yeah. the park isn't exactly a good place to go to clear his mind. after a bit of mindless wandering, louis decides to go the one place in london that, though harry visited, was always his.

 

it's a saturday so the campus is relatively dead, most students preferring to spend the weekends at home or still sleeping off their hangovers. it's pure luck that the auditorium is unlocked, but completely deserted. the smell is overwhelmingly familiar, and louis can't help remembering the hours he's spent on this stage. luckily the music system is the same, so he plays a game he'd made up back in high school and puts his ipod on shuffle.

 

his muscles protest at the strain after what feels like ages of disuse; he enjoys teaching more than he ever imagined, but he hasn't exactly been using his body to the fullest potential. he rolls his shoulders and shakes out the tension in his hips and thighs to the beat of an old demo of ellie's, and then he prepares himself for whatever comes next. the game is simple; freestyle to whatever song pops up. no skipping, no complaining, just losing himself in anything from eminem to mozart. it's a lesson in finding the beat and in self-control. it has been a hit with the classes he taught in new york.

 

one song bleeds into another and louis loses himself in that burn, the stretch and ache that tell him that he's doing something right. he finds himself falling into old routines quickly enough, and loses himself in the movement.

 

this is who he is. bones covered by skin, a heart protected by a rib cage. there's blood pumping through his veins, and just as surely as he is made up of nerve endings and cells he can map out the scar where he fell off his bike at six. his mother's eyes and a red string tattooed around his ankle forever to remind him that the whole universe is coming together, at every moment, in a way that it's meant to. he'd held on tight to that string and had followed it to a silly concert in manchester ten years ago. he'd followed it to london for uni, to a long shot audition, and across the ocean. then he'd followed it back, and had found it tied around harry's wrist just like it always has been.

 

louis hasn't ever been able to see the whole picture, but when it comes down to it, he doesn't need to. whether last night was a mistake in harry's eyes or not, it doesn't matter. as much as he's sure of anything in this life, louis thinks with a grin as his favorite mumford and sons song comes on over the speakers, his fate is entwined with harry's. and yeah, he should've waited. it was wrong, and unkind to not wait until harry had sorted things with nick. but sometimes fate steps in and takes over. things happen for a reason, ed sheeran had told him once.

 

louis can be bold, as well as strong. he can use his head alongside his heart. he can make things right, can be strong for harry.

 

this thought stays with him as he packs up and leaves his old campus. he walks home with a spring in his step, a renewed purpose.

 

"and where have you been?" danielle asks the minute he's through the door, "liam's been in a proper state all morning, did something happen?"

 

"went dancing," louis says. she'll know eventually, but he's going to sweep the incident under the rug for as long as he can.

 

danielle's eyes soften, and louis remembers again why she is one of his dearest friends. she knows what it means to need to lose yourself in movement, she's felt the peace that comes from perfecting a move. they pray the same way, with their bodies. she knows that when louis says he went dancing, he means _my heart was aching and my mind was clouded_ and also _i remember who i am now._

  


ix.

 

that newfound sense of serenity and peace vanishes pretty quickly when, later that evening, louis heads down to the coffee shop to make amends with liam. he's only in the shop about ten seconds before all hell breaks loose.

 

"oi, you bastard!"

 

right. louis takes a deep breath and turns to see nick, looking a little worse for wear. his eyes are bloodshot and puffy, and a cup of cold tea sitting in front of him.

 

"nicholas," louis says cautiously, "you alright?"

 

nick laughs without any real amusement behind it. "that's rich, coming from you. you didn't seem to be too concerned about if i was alright last night when my boyfriend was in your bed."

 

louis' blood is roaring in his ears. it's not like he hadn't known nick would be upset, how could he not? but the idea of it is radically different from seeing it in the flesh. nick, a man that in another life could've been louis' friend, is distraught. no matter how louis could try to justify it, that's on him.

 

"nick," he tries, "it wasn't like that, it wasn't just -"

 

"you think even for a second that i don't know that?" nick's voice is thick and wet, but he doesn't seem to care about the scattering of other customers throughout the shop. "if it was some random fuck, or just getting you out of his system, i could deal with that. i'd be pissed off but not..." nick blows out a breath and runs his hands through his hair, trying to calm himself. when he meets louis' eyes next, his breathing is even and his claws are out.

 

"when i met harry, i knew he was in love with someone else. for years i watched him be eaten alive by the idea that he wasn't good enough for you, and that he'd never be good enough for anybody. you did that to him, and it took three years before he'd even let me buy him dinner. all i've ever wanted was to make him happy, and i was doing it. he'd forgotten about you and moved on. and then you just waltz in and act like nothing's wrong and think you can just fuck with him like that? he was so happy, louis, why can't you just leave him alone? you don't deserve the chance to break his heart again."

 

the world stops spinning. louis can't breathe properly, his heart in his throat and his stomach dropping and he is going to be sick. everything has gone so unbelievably pear shaped, and nick is just standing there, spouting off every truth that louis never wanted to hear. he barely registers the ding of the bell over the door, other than a voice in the back of his head whispering that, oh, there's another stranger to witness his humiliation.

 

louis knows the answer to this one, is the thing. when anyone else has said the same thing, he's had a ready answer about fate and true love and stupid fucking red strings. but for the first time, standing in front of the other half of harry's heart - and that’s true, he can't deny that, harry does love nick - he doubts. maybe he lost his chance. harry is happy and settled and safe, he has everything he needs. there really isn't much that louis could offer that nick can't; even their personalities are quite similar. nick is good and kind, loves harry to distraction, and harry would not be unhappy with him.

 

but.

 

"you're right," louis finally says. his hands clench and unclench, longing for a cigarette or a cuppa or a pen, anything to keep them steady, but he's empty handed. "you're right, i don't deserve him. if there's any justice in this world, he's going to end up with you and forget all about me. he should."

 

nick seems to sag at that, all the wind gone out of his sails. he drops into a chair heavily and rubs his hands over his eyes. louis sits down across from him, equally drained. "but as long as he'll have me, i'll be here. even if he isn't mine, i'm his, nick. i just, i just am."

 

they're still for a moment, then without warning nick's fist flies out and slams into louis' cheekbone. it's not an especially well thrown punch, a bad angle and not much force behind it, but it catches louis off guard and his head snaps back, and he crashes from his chair to the floor.

 

several things happen at once.

 

the yelping sound louis makes as he hits the ground startles a woman who spills her tea, causing her to shriek in turn.

 

liam runs in from the kitchen and takes in the situation in seconds, then jumps over the counter and grab nick, hauling him to his feet and whisper-yelling to him about why violence is never the option before guiding him gently but insistently to the door with instructions to sober up and call him the next morning.

 

and louis’ vision is suddenly obscured by a head fully of curly hair and a solid man is hovering over him, crouching low and protective.

 

louis blinks a couple of times, wondering if he's  is hallucinating, because he definitely doesn’t remember harry being there two minutes ago.

 

“did you hit your head?” harry demands, fingers cradling under louis’ skull and feeling for bumps.

 

“n-no?” louis manages, “how long’ve you -”

 

“so just your face?” now harry is running his fingers over louis’ face carefully and, right, nurse. “does it feel like anything shattered or is broken or -”

 

“harold. it wasn’t even that hard of a punch, he didn’t break anything,” louis says sternly. he raises up on his elbows and shifts his jaw from side to side. it’s going to bruise something fierce, but other than that. “a shiner and a massively bruised ego. i’ll be fine, it’s nothing i haven’t dealt with before.”

 

“right,” harry says a bit stiffly, and they both seem to realize in the same instant that, right, that’s louis flat on his back in the middle of their old coffee shop with harry straddling him, fingers lingering on his face. “erm, shit, i. let me just…”

 

louis can’t even pretend to be a little disappointed when harry clambers off, rising to his feet and brushing his knees off before reaching a hand out and helping louis up. when they’re both vertical again, the shop has seen to come back to life, people coming and going about their business without sparing much of a second glance at the two men standing in the back corner, hands still locked together.

 

“can’t believe he punched me,” louis says after a tense moment of staring into each other’s eyes, “what a dick.”

 

harry’s eyes go hard at that. “stop it, louis, no. that wasn’t okay of him, he shouldn’t have hit you, but he’s not a dick. he’s hurt. i hurt him, i did that to him.” his eyes go distant and louis suddenly feels like he’s intruding.

 

“harry, if you want… i mean, i can back off. i can go, if you’d rather. don’t feel like you have to, just because of this whole…” he waves his free hand around, trying to take in everything, “thing, that you have to leave him. i have a place in new york, he loves you, he’ll take you back, it’s not -”

 

“do you want to go?” harry demands, tightening his grip on louis’ fingers.

 

louis swallows hard and looks up to meet harry’s eyes. “more than anything, no.”

 

“no take backs?” harry presses, and  when louis shakes his head fiercely, harry’s eyes lighten, his grip softer but still strong. “okay then. that’s settled.”

 

as much as louis wants to believe that he can get off that easy, nick just made it abundantly clear, this is real life. things don’t work like that.

 

“that’s very gracious of you, harry, but. i hurt you. i hurt you quite badly and you can’t just sweep that under the rug, i fucked up. nick’s right, i don’t deserve you.”

 

“don’t you think i should be the person to decide that?” harry says gently.

 

and it’s not like louis hadn’t thought about it like that before. of course harry gets a say in it all, just…

 

“and i decide,” harry says, raising their clasped hands to brush his knuckles against the unbruised side of louis’ face, more love and tenderness in his eyes than louis can really comprehend, “that i forgive you. i forgive you and i’d like to give this a shot, if you’re, like. if you’re interested.”

 

louis is so overwhelmed he can’t speak for a moment. tears threaten to prick at the edges of his eyes and, try as he might he can't bring himself to let them fall in public. instead he just moves closer to harry and presses their foreheads together.

 

"'ve you got an application on hand?"

 

harry laughs quietly, but closes his eyes and keeps a hand on louis' cheek to keep him close.

 

"maybe like a work study? trial run for now, see how it goes. looks like a spot just opened up on the team. just." harry swallows thickly, "don't hurt me again? please?"

 

it's quiet, unintelligible to anyone but louis, but to him its everything. It’s a plea and a gift and an offer for more than louis thought he'd get a chance to ask for.

 

louis doesn't reply, just catches harry's hand from where it's cupping his face and presses a kiss into his palm.

 

"i'm not going to insult you by assuming you're the kind of girl that kisses before the first date, so that'll have to tide us over," he says, a twinkle in his eye as he pulls away to clear his throat and drops to one knee, ignoring the _oh fucks sake,_ from liam and focusing on how harry throws his head back and laughs. "harry styles, would you please do me the honor of going to dinner with me?"

 

"get up, you moron," harry laughs as he pulls louis to his feet, "i've only been waiting ten years to hear you say that. but, yeah," and he's quiet now, that tender smile that louis hopes against hope is reserved for him, "dinner would be great."

 

x.

 

it's not louis' first first date, but it's the first one that matters. they'd separated at the doorway of the coffee shop with promises to meet up for dinner at their old pub, once harry has cleared everything up with nick and louis had some time and space to calm his trembling hands. really, three hours isn't all that much in the grand scheme of his life, but it sure seems like it. so, so many things could go wrong in those three hours; harry could change his mind, nick could get angry and violent again, louis could get hit by a bus. anything, really.

 

danielle picks up on it instantly when louis walks through the door with a black eye and a dazed look on his face.

 

"holy shit, your face! sit down, let me -" she shoves him down, ignoring his whine of complaint, and runs to the kitchen to get an ice pack and a towel, and also her phone to snap a picture for posterity's sake.

 

"okay now spill," she demands once they're settled. so spill louis does. he backtracks a bit, telling her about his conversation with niall while camping and ending with “- and what if he doesn’t turn up, what if he decides it’s not worth it and he just stays with nick and they end up in one of them massive claw foot tubs because they’re insufferable hipsters together and they watch, like, movies in french in the bubble bath and i sit there in the restaurant all alone like a dickhead and -”

 

“louis!” she cuts him off sharply, “as amusing as that was, and trust me, i let it go on far longer than i needed to just because you’re hilarious when you’re hysteric, this is harry. and you. and you’ve both been waiting so long, are you really gonna stand him up now just because of a bit of a case of nerves?”

 

it’s apparently the right thing to say, because louis calms instantly. “help me find something to wear?” he offers, and she grins as she takes his hand and pulls him to his room.

 

"i wonder what's going to happen now," louis muses out loud from where he's sprawled on his back on his bed. "i mean, harry can't live with nick, not now. he'll probably want to get his own place, close to work but that's far from me, and -"

 

"maybe," danielle says slowly, still rifling through his closet, "maybe he could move back here."

 

"don't be silly, it's tight enough as it is with the three of us, another person would never..." it takes a minute for louis to catch up with what she just said. "danielle. why would you need to move out?"

 

"because we're going to need more room?" she says, smile growing.

 

louis leaps to his feet and runs to her, twirling her around and laughing. "are you serious? dani, truly, you're going to have a baby?"

 

danielle nods and smiles prettily, and, yeah. louis can see it. it's amazing to think that, if louis had never gone to new york, they never would've met. and now they're having a baby together.

 

fate, he thinks. fate.

 

it puts him in a fantastic mood, and he and danielle gossip all about morning sickness, baby names, flats nearby. louis is ready in plenty of time to get to the bar, and leaves with a kiss to danielle's cheek and a promise to ask harry about moving back in. it's a bit heavy for typical first date talk, but as louis glances at his reflection, checking out his artful scruff and sideswept hair, he smiles to himself and thinks about just how much it isn't a typical first date.

 

by the time he gets to the bar, harry is already seated at the bar. louis takes a moment to catch his breath and just take him in.

 

harry looks exhausted, honestly. his cheek rests in the palm of one hand, his eyes look a bit red and puffy, and his hair's a mess. he's wearing the same shirt from the night before, a plaid button down done up only enough to barely cover his pecs with the sleeves ripped off. there's a small duffle bag next to him, presumably with his necessities, which means the talk with nick went a bit less well than they'd hoped. all in all, harry looks a mess. and louis has never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

 

that is, until harry raises his head and sees louis. his shoulders sag with relief and the lips he had been gnawing on spread into a brilliant smile, and suddenly louis feels far too far away.

 

harry stands when he approaches and wraps him in a hug. "hi," he breathes into louis' hair, "you smell good."

 

it's a ridiculously harry thing to say, and louis can't help but roll his eyes. "ta, harold nice to see you too."

 

harry goes to sit, and louis hesitates. social norms dictate that he sit across from harry, and looking at him does sound appealing, but he's had such luck with tiny bouts of bravery lately that he slips in next to harry. the soft smile he gets in return and the hand that finds his make him certain that he made the right choice.

 

they order almost mindlessly; it's second nature to tease each other gently about being predictable when they order the same thing they got as kids. once their orders have been placed, louis turns and looks at harry, trying to drink his fill of him.

 

"you alright?"

 

harry goes for a smile and fails just short of it. "yeah, i will be. it's just, change. he feels so guilty and it's making him defensive, i dunno. he did say to tell you he's sorry though, about your face." harry's lips quirk up in a way that makes louis 100% sure that nick had worded the sentiment a bit differently than that. "i don't know what i'm gonna do about a place to live, though, i could probably crash with niall for a bit, but i'll have to -"

 

"let's talk about that later," louis cuts in. "can i ask you something?"

 

harry drops his head to the crook of louis' shoulder and begins tracing patterns on his arm. "sure, lou. ask me something."

 

"why now? i mean, i suppose it's a bit obvious with last night and everything, but why did last night happen, like, last night?"

 

harry's finger stills for a moment, and then continue on their path up louis' arm.

 

"that night, when we were camping, i heard you and niall talking. you told him about that boy you dated, and you talked about how wonderful he was. and i just kept thinking about how, like, you think i'm wonderful too, and the worst thing i could think of would be being just a memory to you. i could hear you in my head telling someone years from now, oh, there was harry, he was my soulmate but it just never worked out." harry's voice catches at that. "people spend a lifetime searching for what we've found in each other, over and over again, effortlessly. what a waste it would be to throw that away, you know?"

 

louis knows. louis knows so well. louis knows it in his heart and soul.

 

"i'm gonna kiss you real quick, okay?"

 

harry's tongue darts out and wets his lips, and he manages an _okay_ , before cupping louis' cheek and pulling him in for a kiss. louis wants to live in that space between his breaths, to burrow in his cupid's bow and never leave, but he makes himself be quick and then put some distance between them.

 

"okay. right. moving on."

 

"my turn to ask?" harry asks, once he's caught his breath, and damn if that isn't the best thing in the world, that he took harry's breath away. he nods, and harry drops his gaze. “why’d you come back?”

 

louis has spent a _lot_ of time answering this questions, and his first instinct is to tick off the reasons he’s listed to everyone else. really, he should have a powerpoint or a pamphlet made by now.

 

“you heard me talking to niall, right?” he says instead of whatever smartass comment had been sitting on the edge of his tongue. he feels harry nod more than sees it, and it makes him wrap his arm around him just a bit tighter. “you’re my puzzle piece, hazza. it’s so much more than just the one that got away, you know? i wasn’t someone who was ready for what we were going to be when i was twenty one. i had to go and grow up a bit, learn a lot about myself and the world. and i think i had to figure out what i’ve always known. it’s you. it’s always you. it’s always going to be you, but i had to give the rest of the world a shot before i gave it up for you.”

 

harry looks floored. louis really can’t imagine why, it isn’t anything he’s not been thinking for months now, but. maybe harry didn’t know. maybe harry honestly had no idea how much he meant to him. means to him.

 

“i’m not in this to play with you, you know,” he says, reaching up a finger to close harry’s mouth where his jaw has dropped open. “if you wanted me to go i would. i’m not here to try to make your life more difficult or anything, i just want you to be happy. and i think,” louis leans forward and presses a kiss to harry’s temple, “i have a better chance of making you happy being in your life than out of it.”

 

it just figures that the waitress chooses that moment to drop off their food. it’s just as well, harry looks like he needs a minute to process. louis could use one for himself if he’s honest. they eat in silence, but every time louis steals a glance at harry, he’s looking right back, so that must mean only good things, right? the looks and the way their thighs are pressed together, shoulders and elbows brushing as they eat.

 

“so,” harry says when he wipes his mouth after finishing his burger, “are you going to marry me already, or what?”

 

louis nearly spits out his drink, only catching it at the last second and coughing harshly. harry pats his back a bit, and when louis looks up, he sees a glimmer in his eyes that says he knows exactly what he’s doing.

 

“easy, sunshine,” he says, voice raspy from the coughing, “let’s work up to that, yeah? starting with - right!” louis’ eyes light up as he remembers. “how would you feel about getting a new roommate?”

 

“oh yeah?” harry asks, a bit wary, “anyone i know?”

 

“might be,” louis teases.

 

“tell me about him?”

 

louis sits back and pretends to think hard. “well he’s not especially tidy, but he knows well enough to be quiet and respect sleeping time. also has a fantastic arse.”

 

“the number one quality i look for in roommates,” harry says seriously.

 

“and, like.” louis leans forward to whisper, his lips brushing against harry’s ear, “his body control is phenomenal. you should see the things yoga has done for him lately.”

 

a shiver runs down harry’s back and, yeah, louis is loving this. they’d not taken the time last night to properly explore each other, but with any luck they’ll have plenty of time in the future.

 

“aren’t you staying with danielle and liam, though? i guess we could find a new place, somewhere closer to work, but it’ll be hard to see you somewhere other than that flat.”

 

“that’s the best part!” louis crows, “we get our old place back!”

 

harry’s eyes go wide as louis passes on danielle’s information, his face growing happier and happier. he’s clearly just as in love with the idea of moving back into the old place as louis is. they pass hours like that, huddled close together in the back booth of an old pub, drawing out plans on the back of beer coasters. when the bartender calls for closing time, harry’s eyes are drooping and louis all but carries him down the street, an arm wrapped tightly around his waist as they climb the stairs to the home that was once theirs and will soon be theirs again.

 

they stop outside the door and louis presses harry up against the wall as he reads the post-it stuck to the door: _visiting dani’s family for the night, figured you lovebirds would want the place to yourselves for the weekend. it’s about damn time. xx liam_. louis can’t help but smile, especially when harry peels himself off of the wall and wraps his arms around louis’ waist.

 

“okay, handsy, wait for me to open the door, will you,” he mutters, but reaches back to kiss at harry’s neck. once the door is unlocked, he turns and presses his back to it, effectively trapping himself in between it and harry’s outstretched arms that cage him in. harry’s so tired, bag slung over his shoulder as if a physical reminder of just how not settled everything is. they’ll have to squish into louis’ smaller bed, though he can’t imagine they’ll be up for any funny business until they’ve gotten a few solid hours of sleep. but in spite of it all, harry’s looking down at him with all kinds of love and affection, and it doesn’t even feel that new, or different.

 

“welcome home, louis tomlinson,” harry says as louis pulls him down by the back of his neck for a deep kiss. harry smiles into it like he can’t help it, and reaches behind louis to open the door and let them in.

 

“it’s nice to be back, harry styles.”

 


	4. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, so this is it! i've been writing this story for about six months now, and it's been a journey. i can't even tell you how much i've learned about myself since starting it. i'm terribly sad about saying goodbye to these characters, but i have a feeling they won't be gone for long. i hope you enjoy it, thank you so much for reading. again, a massive thank you to my best girls for all they've done to take this story from an offhand comment about how i want to write about louis hating the winter to what it is now. also i'll be posting a playlist for it here in a bit, of all the music that inspired it or was mentioned. thanks again. xx

_"so, i love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you." -paulo coelho, the alchemist_

 

“louis, if you don’t hurry your lovely arse up we’re going to late, and i will probably never forgive you.”

 

louis rolls his eyes, but quits fussing with his hair and slips on his shoes before following harry out into the living room.

 

“sorry for wanting to make a good impression,” he says with an eyeroll. it’s worth it when harry looks at him with a fond smile and brushes a bit of his fringe off his forehead. before interlacing their fingers and leading him to the door. louis pauses just long enough to look back at their little home with a smile.

 

with the baby coming soon, danielle and liam moved into a little house with an attic that they’ve spent all autumn converting into a studio, full with a barre and floor to ceiling mirrors. she’s teaching out of that space for now, just little girls from their neighborhood and liam is thrilled. their son is due to be born sometime in march, but knowing danielle, she’ll be dancing right up until last possible moment.

 

everyone in their group of friends has been delighted by the news, eleanor calling dibs on godmother and sending tiny couture trench coats and giant stuffed animals from new york. she’s visited from new york a few times over the last few months, glowing and happy as ever. apparently instead of getting a new roommate, she's turned the second bedroom into a walk in closet and design studio and she couldn't be happier.

 

weirdly enough, niall has kept in touch with aiden all these years. when he and louis first bump into each other at one of his gigs, it's both awkward and so, so satisfying. aiden's boyfriend matt thinks it's hilarious and insists aiden plays chokehold at the show.

 

he and matt are apparently going to be at whatever show they're going to tonight. it's the anniversary of the first time they met at the script concert, and harry being the sap he is, insists on taking louis to a secret show to celebrate.

 

"remind me again why i can't just know who we're seeing?" louis asks, fiddling with the blindfold harry had put in place - _come on, lou, play along_ \- before giving up and reaching his hand out into the darkness for harry to grasp.

 

"no cheating," harry reprimands, but takes louis' hand regardless. "he's a friend of mine, but he's pretty proper famous. i'm pretty sure you'll love him, though."

 

louis resigns himself to being in the dark, literally and metaphorically. once they reach the venue, harry keeps up the ploy, guiding louis down a hallway and into a big room.

 

“hazza, mate, how’s it going?”

 

and that sounds an awful lot like -

 

“ed?” louis asks as he rips his blindfold off. sure enough, in all his ginger glory, ed sheeran is standing in the middle of a green room, arms wrapped around harry. ed blinks a couple of times, then throws his head back and laughs.

 

“no fucking way. louis tomlinson? what a small world!” he drops harry and pulls louis into a hug. “so you’re him, huh? you’re the mysterious man who’s got harry’s head all in a fit. and he’s the one that…” ed goes quiet and cocks his head to the side. “i totally see it, actually.”

 

“wait, you two know each other?” and apparently harry is still a bit out of the loop, looking back and forth between the two of them.

 

“harry, remember that mate of mine in new york that i’d always stay with?”

 

“ vaguely, yeah?”

 

“and you remember my musician friend that played shows with my roommate ellie?”

 

“... shit. holy shit. this is… i mean, _wow_.”

 

louis leans forward and kisses him fully on the mouth. “wow is right, love.”

 

“actually, lou, you don’t know the half of it,” harry says, grin growing wider by the second.

 

“and he’s never going to find out if i don’t get on stage, like, three minutes ago. so. hazza, you know where to go? lou, lovely to see you again. sorry to, like, dine and dash or whatever.”

 

ed ducks in and hugs them both one more time before grabbing his guitar and heading out and onto the stage. harry leads louis to the side of the stage where a small couch is set up for the two of them.

 

“still annoyed that my surprise is ruined,” harry grumbles into louis’ hair halfway through the show.

 

louis tears himself away from where ed is reaching a whole new level of talent on the guitar and smiles fondly at harry. “if anything, this just made it more incredible. musically, but also he’s my mate. hey,” he exclaims when a thought hits him, “are you the pingu guy?”

 

harry laughs, and points out where the word _pingu_ is inked into his skin. it’s possible that louis is in love with a child. or an idiot. probably a combination of the two. harry presses a quick kiss to louis’ temple and then shushes him and points to where ed is talking on stage.

 

“so this is kind of weird, but one of my best mates had a special request for the show tonight, and he has some incriminating pictures of me drunk and in various states of undress, so,” ed shrugs and the crowd laughs. louis is mesmerized by the way he controls the room in such an unassuming way; ed has a gift he’s never really seen before. “so this is a little ditty that i wrote when he told me about a situation he’s in, with a person who’s his best friend, and also something more. it’s about finding that courage that it takes to go after something you want, someone you love. and it’s, you know. not gender specific, innit.”

 

the crowd goes nuts at that, and ed turns and winks towards louis in the wings before he begins to play. louis can’t say a word, just sits and listens to the song that he’s never heard before from one of his favorite musicians. when harry starts singing the words gently in his ear, he gets chills down his spine. this is his, it’s for him. harry made this happen, because he loves him. and they are there in every twist and turn of the words. _everything from hate to love, love to lust, lust to truth. i guess that’s how i know you, so i’ll hold you close to help you give it up._ it takes his breath away.

 

when he’s still so quiet at the end of the song, harry looks a bit worried. “was that okay? i mean, it’s probably going to get recorded, but there’s nothing leading back to us, i’m not in the credits or anything, it’s just. um.”

 

“harry,” louis finally says, face blank and voice even, “i think you probably have about ten minutes to get me home or i’m going to be sucking your brains out through your dick in the middle of ed’s concert. i don’t mind either way, but there’s a chance we might be arrested for public indecency, so choose wisely.”

 

“right,” harry says, eyes blown wide and focused on louis’ lips.

 

luckily for everyone involved, harry goes for the first choice and rushes them home. louis doesn't make things particularly easier, palming himself through his jeans and moaning obnoxiously the whole way. harry just grits his teeth and clenches his fists around the steering wheel a little tighter.

 

when they finally get back to their flat, they barely make it through the door before harry's slammed it shut and has louis pressed up against it, hands wrapping around louis' wrists and pinning them above his head.

 

"here i am," harry says as he runs his nose along the sharp line of louis' jaw, "trying to be nice, and romantic, be a good boyfriend, and you _tease_ me. 's not very nice, is it louis?"

 

"would you prefer that i beg for it?" louis asks with one eyebrow arches cheekily, " _oh harry, put that big cock in me, uh, uh!"_

 

harry collapses into giggles at that. "shut up, you prat."

 

"i want you, i need you, oh baby, oh baby," louis monotones, going for bored, but the way his hips jerk up against harry's sort of negates any sarcasm he was trying to get across.

 

"damn right," harry gloats, smirking as he reaches down and undoes the zip on his pants. "now i believe i heard something about sucking my brains out?"

 

he wants to joke about it, truly he does, but more than he wants to joke, he wants harry's dick in him. so, priorities. he switches them so now harry's pressed against the wall before sinking to his knees, kissing his way down harry's chest as he goes. once he gets to his boxers he takes a moment to look up at harry looking down at him, and it's just. he can't help but smile. harry is his, they're in their home, pieces of both of them scattered throughout. harry's nursing certification next to a picture of louis and greg. pictures of louis' sisters braiding and brushing harry's hair when they were all a lot younger. somehow it heightens everything, seeing how beautiful and grown up and _his_ harry is, while being surrounded by evidence that their every step led them here.

 

"i know, right?" harry's voice startles him from his train of thought, and when he looks back you harry's looking down at him, hearts in his eyes. he laces his fingers with louis' where they're curled around harry's hip, and that grounds him enough to get to the job at hand. pun totally intended.

 

keeping his fingers in harry's, louis pulls down his jeans and pants and mouths at harry's length until it's fully hardened, then slides his mouth down over it, bobbing his head as he kneads the muscles in harry's thigh with his free hand. he goes down further and further until he hits his gag reflex and stays, swallowing around the tip of harry's cock and causing him to let out a quiet gasp.

 

"so good at this, lou, every time, every time."

 

it's not like he needs the affirmation, he's past the point in his life when his sense of worth is directly linked to his ability to deep throat, but it makes something warm and soft settle deep in his belly, and when harry lets go of his hands to thread his fingers through louis' hair, louis bucks up into the touch and sucks harder. he's at it for another minute before harry pulls him off with a soft "hey, hey, bedroom, yeah?" and louis whines high in his throat, displeased at the idea of being anywhere other than around harry, but he presses an open mouth kiss to his cock and then clambers to his feet. harry makes it about two feet ahead of him before louis jumps on his back.

 

"for narnia!" he hollers, waving around an imaginary sword.

 

harry lets out a long suffering sigh, but just hitches louis's legs higher around his hips and makes his way across the flat to the bedroom.

 

it's a testament to just how long they've been here that they make it to the bed without crashing into anything, the floorplans memorized over and over again. harry drops louis down with an unceremonious _oof_ , but then crawls up his body and kisses him tenderly. that gives louis shivers as much as anything else, and it takes a bit of persuading to get him to ease up on his grip on the back of harry’s neck long enough to crawl back down his body and press a biting kiss into his hip. when harry’s fingers press into him, louis can’t help arching his back and bearing down, clenching tight as if to keep harry inside him longer.

 

“easy, tiger, we’ll get there,” harry soothes, reaching up with his free hand and brushing the fringe away from louis’ forehead. he’s gentle and tender in this, as with everything, and it’s. well, it’s unlike anything. every movement between the two of them tells of years upon years of observing each other, hearing each other through the thin walls. neither of them have it in them to look back and admit how they’d try to listen hard for the other’s heavy breathing, but instead they’ve learned to take it slow now, learn each other from the inside out. entire rainy saturdays have been spent that way, not acknowledging the world outside of their bedroom. hour after hour spent sprawled out, naked and half naked, tangled sheets and wild hair, eyes wet with tears from the sheer overwhelming feeling of pleasure that comes from giving and taking in equal measure.

 

tonight is no exception; once harry’s stretched him out with three fingers, louis gets impatient and twines their legs together to knock harry off balance and flip them. he reaches behind himself to guide harry’s cock deep inside himself, and once he’s seated flush against harry’s hips he lets out a heavy sigh. harry’s uncharacteristically quiet in bed, any noise he would’ve made caught in his throat, eyes wide and so green and a flush travelling through his cheeks and down his face. he looks so completely wrecked and louis can’t get enough. the thought of harry looking so overwhelmed because of him, because of the feeling of being deep inside louis, does more for him that anything else on earth.

 

after a moment for both of them to adjust, louis starts rocking himself back and forth, pulling a deep moan out of harry. louis usually likes it energetic and fun, throwing himself into sex as much as he does dancing or arguing, but every once in a while one of them will get a craving for something slow and deep, an expression of love and affection and tenderness. this is apparently one of those nights, because every time louis tries to speed it up, bounce a little, harry takes his hips and guides him to move slower, making every movement count. it’s a slow burn and maybe this isn’t for harry, maybe this is harry trying to push louis to the edge, trying to make him break. and fuck if it isn’t working; harry keeps runs his hands all over louis’ abs and stomach and up to his pecs before wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pulling himself up, tracing the curves of louis’ back with his fingertips. the move changes the angle of his cock inside louis and he brushes against his prostate, and if louis had even an inch of his body that wasn’t surrounded by harry he would’ve jerked. but he’s trapped, harry around him and inside him, in the air he breathes and the blood pulsing through his veins. he just gasps, and allows the feeling of safety and pleasure to overwhelm him.

 

taking it slow and sweet doesn’t make it any less intense, and it’s barely moment until they’re both coming. harry from the feeling of louis clenching tight around him and pulling on his hair just right, and louis following close after from the way harry breathes out his name, and the feeling of their fingers locked together around his cock, tugging until he comes with a moan. harry holds louis tight through it, strong arms surrounding him and keeping him from shaking apart. once it’s a safe bet that he can let louis go without having him collapse, harry pulls out carefully and flops back onto the bed. louis is so grateful for the king sized bed they have now in the bedroom; the second bedroom serves as an office and library and the first is filled with a bed big enough for them  both to sprawl without touching, though they usually end up curled up together in the middle anyway. no matter how much time passes, louis can never get enough of touching harry, pressing skin against skin. harry preens under the attention, has grown and blossomed and seems happier than he’s ever been.

 

“still can’t quite get over the fact that i get to do that with you,” he admits quietly, watching with wide eyes as louis plays with the fingers on his left hand. “i wanted it for so long, and it’s just a bit weird thinking that i’m not going to wake up one morning and have this all be a dream.”

 

“i’m sure if you were going to dream me up you’d make me a little taller,” louis jokes, but he can’t pretend that he doesn’t understand what harry is saying. it’s the strangest thing, to finally get what it is you’ve been dreaming of. it’s not like everything is perfect; last week they’d not spoken for a full three days while trying to decide if they could afford a new toaster. there’s no magical transformation that takes place to make harry forget louis leaving, or make louis stop missing new york. but every day that louis stays when he could leave makes it all a little more real.

 

“wouldn’t make you taller,” harry insists as he pushes himself up and onto his feet, wandering into the kitchen for water and a flannel to clean up, “like you pocket sized.”

 

louis suddenly feels the blood in his face drain. “shit. pockets.”  because there’s something in his pocket. something important, something he can’t miss. and his jeans are currently somewhere in the flat, somewhere someone like harry could -

 

“harry, don’t -” it’s too late. by the time louis eases himself up and rushes into the kitchen, harry’s sitting on the floor with a small velvet box in his hand.

 

“i shouldn’t have snooped,” harry says, so quietly louis can barely hear it. but he doesn’t take it back, and he doesn’t drop the box.

 

“erm,” louis says weakly. because this, this could change things. sure they love each other, they’ve lived together and they’ve joked about being settled down little domestic husbands, but he hasn’t had a chance to prepare himself, mentally, for what he’ll say. what he’ll do if harry says no, or even if he says yes.

 

when harry stays silent, louis tries again. “it doesn’t have to be, like, right this second or anything. it would probably be weird if we were, um, well before liam and danielle anyway. i just want you to know that i’m, like. i’m yours, hazza, forever and ever. no matter what, and i’m sorry if it’s too soon or something, i don’t mean to freak you out. i just want you, for however long you’ll have me.”

 

after a long quiet moment, harry clears his throat and looks up at louis with shining eyes and the hint of a smile. “no take backs?” he croaks out.

 

“wouldn’t dream of it,” louis insists, dropping to his knees and resting his chin on harry’s knee where it’s raised.

 

“then yes,” harry says simply. he opens the box to reveal a simple silver band, one that won’t draw too much attention but that louis had fallen in love with. harry looks a little closer, then laughs when he sees what’s etched on the inside.

 

“red string of fate? really, louis could you be more cliché?” but it isn’t unkind. they’d spent one night together in bed, talking and explaining each of their tattoos to each other, and harry learned firsthand just how much louis loves that story.

 

“but really, can you think of anything more fitting?”

 

harry shrugs, because of course he can’t, and he slips the ring on his finger. it sits so solidly, looks as much a part of him as his dimples or the scar on his knuckle, and louis is instantly in love with how it looks.

 

“they’ll say it’s stupid of us,” louis muses, unable to tear his eyes off the ring. how is it possible for a little piece of metal to look so damn good on a silly finger?

 

harry snorts, but runs a hand through louis’ hair and pets at him fondly. “like that’s ever stopped us. and besides, this doesn’t really change anything. if your theory is correct, we’ve been tangled together since day one.”

 

“inevitable,” louis agrees, finally looking up and meeting harry’s gaze. “just had to learn a few thing about patience first.”

 

harry smiles back, but says nothing. he just tangles their fingers together and squeezes, tugging louis ‘till he’s straddling him and settled into his lap. when he reaches up to cup louis’ face this time, the cool bit of metal grazes at his cheekbone and it sends chills down louis’ spine. his engagement ring. harry is his. after all this time, all they’ve been through, harry loves him, wants to hang out with him for the rest of his life. it makes louis’ heart skip a beat and smile so wide he’s sure his face will split.

 

“so, fiancé sex?”

 

“race you to the bedroom!” harry laughs as he louis crawls out of his lap and rushes to his feet, taking a few steps but then looking back and holding out a hand to pull harry behind him. it’s not a race he wants to run if harry’s not by his side anyway.

 


End file.
